


Hard Truth

by TheCurvedWritingDesk



Category: Midnight Poppy Land (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Murder Mystery, Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:34:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 31,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27069454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCurvedWritingDesk/pseuds/TheCurvedWritingDesk
Summary: Vincent Balthuman is dead. Quincey is convinced Tora is responsible but his desperation to know why Tora would commit such an act leads him to wrangle the help of a young feisty journalist as he searches for the truth.
Relationships: Quincey Balthuman/Tora, Tora/Poppy Wilkes
Comments: 151
Kudos: 117





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [katelemmy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/katelemmy/gifts).



> This story idea was brought forward to me by katelemmy. I was intrigued and sat down to flesh out an outline and the whole story came rapidly. I'm currently on chapter 6 so there will be daily updates for this one. I imagine I'll finish it by the end of the week. Enjoy and as always, let me know what you think ♥
> 
> Song:  
> True Friends by Bring Me The Horizon

The wine glass hit the wall hard, fracturing into jagged pieces. He watched, a frown marring his face as the cabernet it had contained seeped into his Persian rug beneath his Armani shoes. It was going to cost him a fortune to undo this. He glanced at the broken carcass littering his rug debating whether or not to clean up the glass shards or leave them for the maid. “Quincey?” Smithy whispered worriedly from the doorway, hesitant to enter the young master’s space without permission.

The blonde man whipped around to sneer at him, the crumpled letter still in his other hand. “Get out of my sight.” When Smithy continued to shadow his doorway Quincey snapped. “NOW!” he thundered, charging towards the door as Smithy scurried back, narrowly avoiding a broken nose as the heavy door slammed shut an inch from his face.

~ ~ ~

**_The Third Interview_ **

The flame flickered and then crackled as it lapped at the end of the cigarette dangling from the inmate’s lips. Closing his eyes, he took a long drag, revelling in the small amount of comfort the old habit afforded him. He set the lighter down on the steel table separating him and the curious woman opposite him.

His eyes fluttered open a moment later and he stared at her with an air of indifference he did not feel. This was his first cigarette in two months. She was a fucking angel sent straight from heaven to provide him some respite as far as he was concerned. He pulled the cigarette from his lips and exhaled slowly, blowing the smoke out the side of his mouth to avoid making her soft brown eyes water. She allowed him one more drag before breaking the weighted silence between them. “Okay, I brought you what you asked for. Will you talk to me now?” she pleaded.

The man smirked at her before shrugging one powerful shoulder lazily as he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “Deal’s a deal. What do ya wanna know?” he drawled, still grasping tightly to his air of indifference.

The small woman leaned closer to him, her shoulders hovering over the table as she nudged the small handheld recorder nearer to him. “I want to know everything.” She breathed, her eyes gleaming with anticipation as she pressed down on the ‘record’ button.

The inmate cocked a brow at her, planting his feet as he rested his forearms on the table, leaning in so the recorder would have no trouble picking up what he had to say. He withdrew his cigarette again, letting it hang limply between his thick fingers. He stared her down before responding darkly, “You sure about that?”

~ ~ ~

Quincey stared down at the Egyptian cotton working between his fingers soundlessly before frowning, pulling his hand away from the sheets to tuck his palm beneath his head. His frown quickly morphed into a scowl as he gazed up at the darkness surrounding him. It’d been weeks since he’d slept through the night. Instead, he would wake multiple times in the predawn hours trying desperately to wrack his memory, searching for a clue. A whisper of recollection; anything to explain this bizarre universe he currently inhabited. He rolled over, pulling his knees into him for a moment, closing his eyes as he thought of the man he’d once called brother. It didn’t make any goddamn sense. _Why_? Why did Tora do it? He flipped over onto his stomach and buried his face in his pillow. Why was this nightmare so impossible to wake from? If Poppylan Wilkes didn’t get him answers soon he was going to drive himself mad with the unknown.

With a frustrated sigh he flipped over and slammed himself onto his back, his hands on his pillow as he fluffed it behind his head. He laid there for a moment with his eyes closed, forcing his body to remain still as he slowed his breathing; doing everything in his power to invite sleep to take him. He gave it a solid two minutes before giving up. Reaching up with a sigh he clicked on his bedside lamp and pushed himself up into a seated position. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed he strode across the room and grabbed his robe, wrapping it around himself as he headed for his office.

He rolled his neck, rubbing at his shoulder absentmindedly as he turned on his desk light and laptop. He would listen to it. _Again_. As he did every night he couldn’t sleep. His hand settled familiarly on his wireless mouse as he navigated out of the manuscript he’d given up on and clicked on the folder he had slowly amassed on Tora. The soft whirl of his computer fan the only sound in the too silent room, reminding him of just how alone he always was now a days. His mouse slid over the file titles as his jaw clenched. Being a Balthuman lent him a fair amount of influence, and access to things the plebeian population would gawk at if they knew. There was a hidden curriculum when you grew up with blood money. Well, he supposed there was a hidden curriculum for everyone, his just worked to his advantage most of the time. His jaw clenched as his father’s derogatory condescending tone reverberated in his head, ‘ _if you can solve it with money, it’s not really a problem; is it Quinceton?_ ’ Well he had certainly taken Dear ol’ Daddy’s advice on this particular ‘problem’. He wondered mirthlessly if Vincent would be proud of him. After all, this was without a doubt one of the most underhanded things he’d ever done with his privilege. Then again, Tora had left him no choice.

Quincey Balthuman closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, turning his face away from the soft glow of his computer screen. When he opened them he was staring into the darkest corner of the room. He imagined Tora slinking out of the obsidian depths for him, a lazy smirk on his face, the smoky haze of his cigarette filling the room as his eyes lit with mischief. _And just what the fuck do ya think you’re doing princess? Don’t you know better than to ask questions you don’t really want the answers to by now?_ He would chastise. Quincey closed his eyes, banishing the phantom he’d conjured as he double clicked the mp3 file his mouse had been hovering over. “You don’t understand Tora. I don’t _want_ to know. I _have_ to know.” He murmured to the empty room as his brother’s deep baritone rumbled from the computer speakers, filling the dark room, drowning out the soft hum of the computer fan.

“You sure about that _?”_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I should have warned you guys yesterday. This story time hops. Let me know what you think! Thanks for all the interest so far ♥
> 
> Song:  
> Tell Me Why by Taylor Swift

Quincey slumped back in his chair and closed his eyes as he listened, as he had so many nights before. His lips moved along with the two voices on the recording like muscle memory, so ingrained were the words on the pages of his mind.

~ ~ ~

“Yes. I want to know everything. What happened? Why would the legendary Tiger of Ares Street kill the hand that fed him?” Poppy whispered, her gaze locked with the large man opposite her with the arresting eyes.

Tora cocked a brow in amusement. “The legendary Tiger of Ares Street,” he mocked, “I’d love to know what they call me now.” He murmured, his voice saturated with scorn. He exhaled slowly as his eyes fluttered closed momentarily. “Would ya be willing to believe I’d just finally had enough of his bullshit? Just decided I was done takin’ orders?” He asked; the side of his lip curling in amusement.

Poppy eyed him assessingly, “You said a deal’s a deal. I want the truth. I didn’t come back here to get jerked around again.” She informed him, leaning back in her chair with her arms crossed, her brows furrowed together in frustration. _Three weeks_. She’d been coming here for three weeks trying to get the stubborn man to agree to an interview.

~ ~ ~

** The First Interview **

Poppy rested her head on the steering wheel in the compact car she’d rented to carry her out to the Narin City Penitentiary & Correctional Facility. She closed her eyes and sighed, her fingers clenching and unclenching the wheel beneath them. Stupid. She’d been so _stupid_ for driving all the way out here on a whim. Of course he wouldn’t talk to her! Let alone see her! The man hadn’t even asked for a lawyer when he’d been interviewed by the police. _Nine hours_. Nine hours of grueling questioning and the man hadn’t uttered a sound aside from to ask to ‘take a piss.’ She knew, she’d watched all nine hours of the footage.

She sighed and sat up, letting her head lull back on the headrest as she sat in the parking lot of the imposing structure before her. What was she going to do? Her boss was counting on her. She’d been handpicked for this. Gil had taken a chance on her right out of school and she’d be damned if she was going to let him down. _The Globe and Narin_ had almost gone belly up four months ago, bankruptcy looming at their backdoor as pink slips were being handed out like confetti at a party. People didn’t read the newspaper anymore; the internet had replaced hard hitting journalism. Today the average Joe got their news from buzzfeed and twitter, not lengthy well researched and composed crime columns.

She’d been worried her career was about to be over before it started when an anonymous benefactor had bought up all the floundering shares of the paper and kept them afloat. On one condition: The Globe and Narin had to produce a story on the assassination of Vincent Bartholomew Balthuman, the reigning kingpin of gang crime in Narin City for over thirty years. Well, until the night his own man had murdered him; the same man that refused to speak to her now.

When Gil had informed her of the assignment she’d been puzzled, why her? Who the hell was she? A brand new graduate was what. One who was in way over their head and had no idea what they were doing. She somehow doubted a seasoned reporter would have just rushed into this the way she had. Why had she never stopped to consider he might turn her away? She glanced at the rolling gate on the far side of the parking lot. Did she give up? Leave? Go back to the drawing board and devise a new plan of attack? No. She didn’t have time for that. Gil had given her a deadline, she couldn’t just walk away.

Decision made, she reached into the satchel beside her and pulled out her rainbow stationary. Flipping open the notebook, she clicked the top of her favourite blue pen and set the tip to the paper, scrawling the words she hoped would gain her a meeting. She decided to be honest. Her father had always said: _Look ‘em dead in the eye and tell them what you need from them._ Well, it wasn’t like she had the option to stare this man down, but she could still communicate.

She read her note over a moment later:

_Dear Mr. Yeke,_

_As you’re aware, I tried to visit you today. You refused to see me. I realize that a man in your predicament would have little incentive to talk to someone like me. However, I would be willing to negotiate if this interests you. You have something I want. I have access to the world you don’t. I realize nothing in this world is free. Especially not in the kind of world you find yourself in currently. I would like to propose a trade. All I want is to meet with you. What will this cost me?_

_I look forward to your reply,_

_Poppylan Wilkes_

_867-5309_

Decision made, she folded the stationary note in half, scribbled his name across the back of one folded edge, grabbed her purse and marched right back inside. One of the correctional officers cocked a brow at her. “Back so soon?” he asked.

Poppy nodded, “Would you please have someone take this to Mr. Yeke?” She asked.

The officer accepted the note and glanced at it, a smirk floating across his face. “Don’t hold your breath,” he warned.

She shrugged, “I gotta try. My job is on the line.”

The guard looked up at her with a frown, “ya don’t know how this works do ya? He can’t just call ya darling.”

Poppy stared at him hard, her father’s voice echoing in her head. “No, but _you_ can.” She affirmed, pulling a twenty from her wallet.

~ ~ ~

Two days later, Poppy picked up the phone on the fourth ring. She tucked it between her ear and her shoulder, her fingers still moving rapidly over the keyboard in front of her. “The Globe and Narin, Poppylan Wilkes speaking,” she murmured, her eyes fixed to her screen as she frantically typed, desperate to get out her sentence before it escaped her.

“Yeah, hey, it’s Rodrick, from the prison, remember me?” a man’s voice filled her ear.

Poppy’s fingers stilled as she pushed herself away from her desk, rolling back on the wheels of her chair as she reached up to grasp the phone in her hand. “Yes of course. Thanks for calling me and for delivering my note. What did he say?” she asked; her eagerness evident in her tone.

“Says he’ll meet ya if ya wanna come back, he said to bring an envelope though.” Rodrick offered.

She grinned, “Oh I’ll be there,” she told him firmly, “thanks again.”

There was a long pause, “fifty bucks and I’ll keep passing notes for ya in the future.”

Poppy smirked, “I’ll take you up on that if I need any more delivered.”

~ ~ ~

The heat of his gaze travelled the length of her body lazily, before sliding away from her and onto the guard behind her by the door as she approached his table. He wasn’t what she’d expected. Then again, she wasn’t sure what she’d expected at all. “Hi, I’m Poppylan.” She greeted him, sitting down opposite him.

Tora just stared at the small woman who had demanded to see him, “I gathered that.” He finally muttered studying her face. She looked tired, maybe a little sad too? Her eyes were red around the rims…lack of sleep? Crying? He stopped his train of thought, reminding himself he had enough to worry about. He didn’t need to add this woman to his plate.

She smirked at him, pulling a cherry blossom covered notebook and a gel sparkly pen from her bag before flipping the first item open to a blank page. “So, where to start? I have so many questions.” She told him giddily.

His brows furrowed in annoyance, “nah sweetheart, ya said ya wanted to meet me. Ya didn’t say nothing about talking. The only question ya better have is: what did this little meeting cost ya.” He informed her tersely.

Poppy scowled at him, “obviously I wanted to meet with you for information. I’m a journalist for heaven’s sake. I’m sure they told you the other day when I tried to visit you the first time.” She explained, slightly exasperated. Why the hell had he agreed to meet with her if he wasn’t going to speak to her?

He scowled right back, “You met me, now you’re gonna do something for me.” He objected, pointedly ignoring her argument. He’d agreed to meet with her because she was right. She had access to the world he didn’t. He needed to send Quincey a message. He couldn’t talk to the man though. If he broke the seal on his silence with him everything would come rushing out, like a levy breaking on a damn. He’d never been able to lie convincingly to Quincey, thus his silence. So, that left him with this woman, a bridge of sorts between two very dangerous men. When he’d received her note, he’d seen an opportunity, the opportunity he needed to apologize, to say goodbye, the one he’d missed the last time he’d been capable of speaking to his brother.

She set down her pen, her glare turning dark, “and just what would that be?” she asked in a huff.

He reached towards her, bringing down his palm on her notebook before dragging it back towards him. He glanced at her pen in disgust but picked it up anyways, using it to scribble an address on the lined sheet of paper. “Ya got the envelope?” he asked, glancing up at her.

Poppy nodded and procured it from her bag, handing it over to him. She watched as he ripped a second page from her notebook and began writing. He folded it up a moment later and stuffed it into the envelope. She watched on, enthralled by the secretive curt man in front of her as he sealed the envelope. “Alright, you’re gonna deliver this to the address I wrote down. You’re gonna take this to a guy named Noyouko. Ya got that? Ya do that and I’ll talk to ya.” He offered, knowing she’d never get passed the front desk.

She nodded, accepting the letter. “ _Promise_ we’ll talk next time?” She insisted.

He smirked at her, “yeah.” Oh they’d talk alright, shoot the shit about anything and everything _but_ Vincent.

Poppy eyed him suspiciously, “this better not be anything illegal.” She warned waving the letter in her hand.

Tora snorted in amusement, he liked this woman, she was entirely too quick to assume the worst of him. “It’s nothing like that. Just a letter to an old friend,” When she failed to stop giving him the evil eye, he added, “If you’re that worried about it, just give it back and we can forget about his whole thing.” He suggested, placing a calculated gamble based off the note she’d written him and the state of her face upon arrival.

“No!” she cried vehemently, stuffing the letter into her purse. She was getting this damn story. No matter what it took.

~ ~ ~

Poppy fingered the envelope in her hands as she approached the receptionist. The man looked up at her from his magazine lazily. “Yes? Can I help you?” he asked, his tone of voice betraying the suggested kindness of his words.

She sighed, “Yeah actually, I have a letter for Noyouko?” she explained, hoping he’d be able to provide her with a little more direction than Tora had.

The receptionist rolled his eyes, “Put it in the pile.” He told her, hooking his thumb over his shoulder to point at the cardboard box full of letters resting on the shelf of the desk behind him.

Poppy frowned, “I was instructed to take it to him,” she murmured.

A sour expression crossed the receptionist’s face, “Yeah. I don’t think so sugar. You can put your fan mail in with all the others.” He muttered.

The woman who had invaded his lobby blinked at him in confusion, “listen I-” she began to protest.

The receptionist cut her off, “no, you listen. This is not a meet and greet. I don’t care how long you waited at the P.O Box before following his delivery boy here. I’m so sick of you girls. Leave it or don’t but you’re not seeing him.” He informed her before turning his attention back to his magazine.

Poppy frowned, completely lost as to what the receptionist was talking about, “alright, thanks.” _For nothing,_ she added silently, walking around his desk to drop the letter in the box. She left without another word. Normally she’d be curious as to the identity of this Noyouko person. Now though, she was too distracted to care. She’d done as Tora had asked. She was going back to the prison next week and she was going to get her damn story.

~ ~ ~

Later that night, Quincey glanced at the box of fan mail Smithy had collected for him from the front desk. He sighed before taking a sip of his cabernet. Usually, he enjoyed fan mail. Writing under a nom de plume robbed him of the opportunity to interact with his fans on a more personal level. Responding to their fan mail was about as good at it got with them. He wasn’t in the mood tonight though. Attending to clan business always put a damper on the joy his writing brought him. He was hoping the praise would bolster his mood. Sighing heavily, he set down his wine glass and picked up the first letter.

It was odd; there was no address on it. Just a blank envelope with ‘Noyouko’ scrolled across the front and center. He flipped it over, examining the back. It looked just fine to him. It wasn’t the first time a fan had followed Smithy from the P.O Box to try to locate his real address. He supposed it probably wouldn’t be the last either. In fact, he rather hated these ones. He never knew what he was going to get. A half-crazed fan professing their love? Their desire for a relationship with him? Or a super fan? One so dedicated, they just _had_ to meet him?

Picking up his heavy silver letter opener, he sliced the envelope in one quick motion only to set it back down and collect his wine glass. He took a long swig. God help him. Why did he subject himself to this? Using his other hand, he unfolded the letter, his fingers tightening on the stem of his wine glass as his rage swelled within him.

_For what it’s worth, I’m sorry Quince. Stop calling._

_It’d be better for you to just forget about me._

_Goodluck with your writing princess._

_-T_

The wine glass hit the wall hard, fracturing into jagged pieces. He watched, a frown marring his face as the cabernet it had contained seeped into his Persian rug beneath his Armani shoes. It was going to cost him a fortune to undo this. He glanced at the broken carcass littering his rug debating whether or not to clean up the glass shards or leave them for the maid. “Quincey?” Smithy whispered worriedly from the doorway, hesitant to enter the young master’s space without permission.

The blonde man whipped around to sneer at him, the crumpled letter still in his other hand. “Get out of my sight.” When Smithy continued to shadow his doorway Quincey snapped. “NOW!” he thundered, charging towards the door as Smithy scurried back, narrowly avoiding a broken nose as the heavy door slammed shut an inch from his face.

Quincey breathed deeply, running his free hand through his hair as he leaned heavily against the back of the door. _Why_? WHY had Tora done it? And why the _fuck_ was he so insistent on shutting him out? He smoothed out the letter in his hands, his brows furrowing as he eyed the slanted chicken scratch that was very obviously his brother’s hand writing. “God damn you to hell Tora.” He murmured with no intention of obeying the man’s request in the least.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy! I'm a little nervous about this formatting. I hope I've made it clear enough it's not too confusing. My hope is that it has you scratching your head in a good way and not a wtf way. I promise it'll all come together in the end. ♥
> 
> Song:  
> Tell Me by BROS

**_The Night of Vincent’s Murder_ **

The bathroom door thudded against the tiled wall before swinging closed, the lock sliding into place. Detective Lane narrowed her eyes at the man who had just reported a dead body as she pushed herself away from the door. “I swear to god Tora if my witne-” she whispered harshly, ever thoughtful of who could be listening just outside the door.

“They’re alive.” The dark man growled. “I would have appreciated a fucking heads up though.” He spat, pushing himself off the far wall as he stalked towards the woman opposite him.

Lane glared right back at him, “I tried. You’re the one that stopped taking my damn calls.” She paused, the dark red splotch on the tshirt poking out from beneath his zipped hoodie catching her attention. She charged him, taking hold of the zipper before yanking it down. “oh god…” she breathed taking in the breadth of the stain as she took a small step back in horror.

Tora zipped it back up, all the way to his neck this time. “Jesus Lane, offer to buy me dinner first,” he spat, no humour in his tone.

Lane stared at him with wide rounded eyes, “if my witnesses are fine then, whose...” she trailed off, her surprise evident on her face as she pieced it together. “Oh Jesus Tora, did you? Is he…”

The look he shot her caused her to pause again, “I’m going down for this one. We don’t have a relationship. Got it? Don’t try to help me, I won’t take it.” He explained as he brushed past her, his hand on the lock.

Lane eyed him suspiciously, “why? This isn’t your MO.” She pondered aloud, the weight of her stare heavy on his back.

Tora glared at her for a long moment, willing her to see something different. When he didn’t find what he was searching for in her eyes he replied sadly, “you don’t know anything about me then.” Squaring his shoulders, he yanked the door open, heading willingly back to the interrogation room.

~ ~ ~

**The Second Interview**

Molten gold met deep chocolate in a battle of wills. Tora smirked at the fierce woman glaring at him, “Ah come on sweetheart, thought ya wanted to visit with me?” He teased.

A snarl escaped Poppy before she could suppress it, “I don’t appreciate being lied to.” Her statement elicited a laugh from her companion as he leaned in towards her, his elbows and forearms sliding slightly across the table towards her with the movement.

His lips curled in amusement, displaying a dimple on his devilishly handsome face, “You always this feisty? Or only with me?” He teased. When she just continued to glare daggers at him, he added, “I get why you’re annoyed, but I didn’t lie. I make a point to avoid having to lie to people as often as possible. I said we’d _talk_ if ya ran that little errand for me last time. You’re the one that failed to specify the topic.” He countered. 

Poppy rolled her eyes, “technicalities, you knew what I meant and what I came back for!” she snapped.

Tora’s grin widened, “sweetheart, I live in a world where technicalities and intent can be the difference between freedom and life behind bars.” He explained, “If ya want something from me ya better be fucking specific.” He warned.

She tossed her head to the side, her nostrils flaring. “Fine, another favour then. What do you want in exchange for talking to me about the murder of Vincent Balthuman?” She demanded.

The large man tossed his arms up, lacing his fingers behind his head as he stretched his legs out under the table, crossing one foot over the other at the ankle. The movement caused his foot to graze hers. He cocked a brow at her when she flinched at the physical brush. “Aw come on now kid, don’t tell me all that ferocity is just for show. What’s wrong sweetheart? Scared of brushing shoulders with a presumed killer?” He challenged.

Poppy inhaled deeply through her nose and let it out slowly, attempting to calm herself. Now centered, she shoved her ankle against his, physically insisting he vacate her leg space. She was determined to show him he couldn’t push her around, no matter how intimidating he appeared. He in turn, smirked at her, pleased by her pushback. He did not however, retreat. He rather enjoyed the feel of her leg pressed against his own. “I’m not scared of you Tora. I’m just annoyed I came up here on a Saturday to see _you_ when I could be spending time with my _plants_.” She spat insultingly.

A genuine laugh filled the room, “damn Bobby. Ya really cut me to the quick with that one. I’ve spent most of my life being compared to animals but never been told I’m worth less effort than a damn plant.” He explained teasingly with a grin.

Her glare intensified, “My name is Poppylan.” She reminded him harshly.

He rolled his eyes, “ya never had anyone fuck with your name before? Jesus. Relax kid. I know what your damn name is. Ya need to get laid don’t ya? That why ya so high strung?” He guessed, hoping his barb struck a chord. The plant comment had hurt; his words truthful despite his tone.

Poppy gawked at him, momentary pain flashing across her eyes, “You are shameless! How dare you say something like that to me!” She hissed indignantly.

He sat up straight and held his hands out in front of him placatingly, he frowned, feeling like shit about what he’d said. He’d meant to aggravate her, not hurt her. “Alright, alright, I’m sorry. I’ll stop being a dick.” He apologized genuinely, her eyes softening towards him. “I’m just surprised a woman that looks like you doesn’t have anything better to go home to than plants.” He explained, sincerely taken aback she didn’t have a partner.

A blush stole across her cheeks. He thought she was attractive? They locked eyes, hers sorrowful, his curious, until she sighed, her shoulders dropping in defeat, “can I level with you Tora?” she questioned, deciding to go out on limb with the man. She wasn’t here to exchange compliments or insults. She needed to make him understand, to realize this wasn’t a joke to her, how significant him talking to her was.

He cocked his head to the side in response, lifting his chin towards her in acquiescence. He didn’t like the look on her face, sad, like all the fight had just left her. She took a steadying breath and began, “You wanna chitchat? Fine. My Dad died when I was kid. He was a journalist for a small local paper. I used the insurance money to put myself through school and follow in his footsteps. I was gonna be a big city reporter though, covering crime and scandal. No heartfelt small town community events coverage for me.” She explained as Tora eyed her curiously, wondering just where she was intending on going with this.

“So I pack up my whole life, leave all my family, friends, my _boyfriend_ and move to Narin City.” Tora frowned, so she was attached? Why had she taken the joke so poorly then? “I land a job with The Globe and Narin, right out of school. Things are going great, until suddenly they aren’t. The paper’s a sinking ship and I’ve strapped myself to the bow. A cacophony of pink slips explode around me. I spend weeks lying in bed at night wondering if tomorrow is the day I get canned. The day I start looking for cashier and shelf stocking positions just to keep my apartment.” Poppy paused and frowned, remembering the overwhelming anxiety she’d felt.

She hardened the steel in her eyes and continued, annoyed by the disinterested look on Tora’s face, “It doesn’t come. I’d find out later they kept me because I made so little and was a literal nobody; a small fry that had been overlooked. Then some rich savior who still believes in the printed written word comes out of the darkness like some angelic apparition and saves the paper. Saves _my career_. Only one problem though. My boss wants _your story_ and all the journalists that might actually be able to convince you to talk to them are working elsewhere or too offended by their firing to return. So this task falls to me and I’m thinking how the fudgin’ hell do I get the man who the detectives have nicknamed the ‘stonewall’ to talk to me? _Me_?” She paused, closing her eyes against her own feelings of inadequacy. Tora arched a brow at the defeated look on her face.

She took two deep breaths before continuing, “So I go to visit my boyfriend for some reassurance, hoping for a pep talk. A ‘you got this Poppy, I love you and believe in you’. Only he’s apparently not my boyfriend anymore. He belongs with the girl I catch him slobbering all over. Nice of him to let me know eh?” She murmured sarcastically. Tora sat back in his chair and crossed his arms, he felt like even more of a dick now for his comment, suspecting the cheat was the reason behind her red eyes the last time he’d seen her. 

“So I come back to Narin and good ol’ Rod calls and lets me know you’ll actually see me and I’m thinkin’ _hall-e-fudging-lujah_. _One thing_ in my life is going my way. _Just one_. And you know what? It’s enough.” She smiled at his raised brows, “It gets me through the rest of the day; and the next one, and all the ones that follow until I meet you.” She lost her smile, a constipated look replacing it, “Then you send me on an errand I’m still conflicted over, just so that you’ll talk to me. ‘Cause I need this. I need _you._ I need your story; and I’m not giving up until I get it. So I’ll ask you again. What will it cost me Tora?” She asked him sternly.

His eyes widened, a little taken aback by the rollercoaster of emotions she’d just taken him on so willingly. He wasn’t used to that level of sharing; he wasn’t entirely sure how to respond. He was getting her through the day? The promise of his story was keeping her going? He frowned and stared down at his hands in indecision, just like he had the night Vince had died. It’d been months though; enough time had passed…? He could still keep some things off the record right? She seemed like a decent individual, he could test the waters; see how she reacted before unloading? The truth was valuable. Powerful. Worth a hell of a lot more than anything she could offer him. He could share a version of the truth though, a tempered one with plenty of omissions. She wasn’t Quincey, she didn’t know him, wouldn’t know when he was leaving things out. “Alright sweetheart, bring me a pack of Marlbo and we’ll play show n’ tell.” He offered.

Poppy cocked her brow at him dubiously. “Seriously? A pack of cigarettes? That’s it?”

He nodded, “that’s it. You help me get through my day and I’ll help ya with yours.” He suggested. “Cigarettes are the only predictable thing I know. Been that way my whole life. When ya whole world’s fallin’ to pieces, and everything’s spinning outta control. You just open that little white box…and Boom. Stability. Even if it’s only for a moment.” He murmured. “Can’t get ‘em though. My benefactor cut off my money flow. He wasn’t too impressed when he found out my charges. So, ya bring me a pack of Marlbo and I’ll tell ya anything ya wanna know.” He explained, already being more open with her than he had with anyone since he’d been arrested.

She thrust out her hand at him, “you got a deal.” She agreed.

Tora smirked at her, enveloping her small soft hand in his. “You’re really not afraid of me are ya?” He questioned in slight disbelief as she went about packing away her notebook.

She grinned at him, “why should I be?”

He lost his smile, “oh I don’t know, maybe because I’m being held for and on trial for murder? Because I’m a rumoured well known mafia enforcer and supposed hitman?” He stated casually, testing her.

She shrugged, “we all have our flaws, circumstances we abide but don’t desire. I withhold judgement until after you tell me your story. Then I’ll decide if you scare me. Besides, your word choice is telling. ‘Supposed’, ‘presumed’, ‘rumoured’ you may not have said a word to defend yourself when you were in questioning or on the stand so far, but you have never admitted any culpability either.” She pointed out.

He shrugged, trying his best to mask how much her held judgement actually meant to him. “technicalities.” He murmured, tempted to point out how many times his holding sentence had been lengthened for contempt of court. Unlike her, the judge didn’t appreciate his silence. Talking to Poppy was definitely going to piss the old fart off, probably his joke of an attorney as well. Public defenders had too many cases, their workload unmanageable. His own would be relieved if he just plead guilty and was done with it.

She smirked at him, “Perhaps the difference between freedom and a life behind bars.” She repeated his own words back to him. “I’ll be back with your cigarettes next week. Don’t renege on our deal.” She warned, shouldering her bag.

He snorted in amusement, “Say hey to your plants for me.” He called to her retreating back as he eyed her behind appreciatively, the girl had an ass for days, her ex-boyfriend was an idiot. The smile she tossed him over her shoulder on the way out kept him going for the rest of the week.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ****Trigger warning for mild descriptions of abuse****  
> So shit hit the fan at work today and I'm going to have some evening meetings tomorrow so I may not get to update tomorrow night but I'll be back Thursday for sure if not tomorrow. Anyways, enjoy this long ass chapter. It was originally supposed to be two but cutting it disrupted the flow so, it is what it is. :) As always, let me know what ya think! ♥
> 
> Songs:  
> Down (feat. Joi) by Run the Jewels  
> Raised by Wolves by Geoffrey

**_The day before the Second Interview_ **

Tora rolled his eyes as his lawyer continued to lecture him about what he should or shouldn’t do. He was starting to miss Cordy. They weren’t exactly friendly with each other but that woman was more of a beast than he was; no one messed with her in the courtroom. He’d never had to speak when _she_ was defending him. The last time he’d been in a bind she’d gotten him off free as a bird. Then there was this guy, this idiot couldn’t seem to avoid having him cross examined to save his life. Three times he’d been called to the stand and three times he’d refused to say a word. “I don’t get it Tora. If you won’t defend yourself, why the hell did you plead not guilty?” He demanded.

Tora glared back at him in silence as the potbellied man’s face turned red in frustration. “Do you really not get how serious this is? You reported a dead body; showed up to a Police station covered in blood I might add, your boss is recovered, shot with your own gun. Do you not get how this looks? If you’re not guilty you have to tell me what happened!” He demanded. “Why do you want to bother with a trial, especially one this high profile if you know you’re just going to be convicted? ‘Cause that’s what’s going to happen if you don’t talk to me Tora! You’ll be convicted and spend the rest of your life in a cell! How can I help you if you won’t help yourself? I’m at my wits end here man! How am I supposed to defend you when you won’t give me anything to work with? I look like an idiot out there and so do you!” He cried, his pudgy finger stabbing the air in the direction of the door.

Tora frowned and pushed himself up from the table. “Figure it out, you’re the lawyer, not me.”

“Where the hell are you going!” the attorney called after his client.

Tora didn’t even turn to look at him, “back to my god damn cage.” He spat as he followed the correctional officer out of the room.

 _The lawyer’s right_ , he thought as his bars slid back into place. He was dragging this out for no reason. He wasn’t sure what he was waiting for, what was the point of prolonging the inevitable? He was the one that had put himself here. People had always seen a killer when they’d looked at him. Why the fuck did he expect it to be any different now?

**The Third Interview**

The flame flickered and then crackled as it lapped at the end of the cigarette dangling from the inmate’s lips. Closing his eyes, he took a long drag, revelling in the small amount of comfort the old habit afforded him. He set the lighter down on the steel table separating him and the curious woman opposite him.

His eyes fluttered open a moment later and he stared at her with an air of indifference he did not feel. This was his first cigarette in two months. She was a fucking angel sent straight from heaven to provide him some respite as far as he was concerned. He pulled the cigarette from his lips and exhaled slowly, blowing the smoke out the side of his mouth to avoid making her soft brown eyes water. She allowed him one more drag before breaking the weighted silence between them. “Okay, I brought you what you asked for. Will you talk to me now?” she pleaded.

The man smirked at her before shrugging one powerful shoulder lazily as he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “Deal’s a deal. What do ya wanna know?” he drawled, still grasping tightly to his feigned disinterest.

The small woman leaned closer to him, her shoulders hovering over the table as she nudged the small handheld recorder nearer to him. “I want to know everything.” She breathed, her eyes gleaming with anticipation as she pressed down on the ‘record’ button.

The inmate cocked a brow at her, planting his feet as he rested his forearms on the table, leaning in so the recorder would have no trouble picking up what he had to say. He withdrew his cigarette again, letting it hang limply between his thick fingers. He stared her down before responding darkly, “You sure about that?”

Her chestnut bangs swished along her cheek bones as her head moved up and down in assurance. “Yes. I want to know everything. What happened? Why would the legendary Tiger of Ares Street kill the hand that fed him?” Poppy whispered, her gaze locked with the large man opposite her with the arresting eyes.

Tora cocked a brow in amusement. “The legendary Tiger of Ares Street,” he mocked, “I’d love to know what they call me now.” He murmured, his voice saturated with scorn. He exhaled slowly as his eyes fluttered closed momentarily. “Would ya be willing to believe I’d just finally had enough of his bullshit? Just decided I was done takin’ orders?” He asked; the side of his lip curling in amusement, his words closer to the truth than she knew.

Poppy eyed him assessingly, “You said a deal’s a deal. I want the truth. I didn’t come back here to get jerked around again.” She informed him, leaning back in her chair with her arms crossed, her brows furrowed together in frustration. _Three weeks_. She’d been coming here for three weeks trying to get the stubborn man to agree to an interview.

“Alright, just remember you asked for this.” He warned, “Where ya want me to start?”

Poppy shrugged, “the beginning? Wherever that happens to be?” she suggested, rolling her pen between her fingers.

He nodded, pulling his cigarette from his mouth, exhaling smoke. _The beginning…a lifetime ago_ he thought as he began. “Vince was a mean son of bitch…he took me off the streets when I was six. He had a twisted fetish for locking me up in a cage whenever I disobeyed or embarrassed him. Tried to run away a couple times when I was real small. Never got too far though. He’d always send someone to drag me back to his boot heel.”

He sighed, ignoring the horrified look on her face at what he’d just told her as casually as commenting on the weather. The cigarette crackled as he pulled on it hard before continuing, holding in the smoke as he spoke, “and then he’d beat the shit outta me. Would shame me for cryin’ when it hurt so bad holdin’ back the tears would have been impossible.” He blew smoke out towards the corner of the room. “He taught me to harness and channel the rage I felt towards him though; take it out on whatever target he pointed at. Started out small ya know, couple street rumbles here and there, some petty crime, a broken store window, little vandalism.” He shrugged, taking another drag on his cigarette. “Nothin’ too bad.” He watched her, his eyes empty as she jotted a few notes in her book, “I ain’t tellin’ ya this for sympathy or pity. I’m tellin’ ya so that ya understand why I did the shit I’m not proud of. Those circumstances ya brought up last time.” He told her, searching her face for comprehension and agreement.

Poppy nodded, “of course, honestly, whatever you want to tell me, go for it.” She told him, her face tilted down towards her notes, hopeful he couldn’t see the expression on her face.

Leaning back in his seat he waited until she finally looked up. He canted his head to the side and locked gazes with her. “Ya ever had one of those moments when ya just know your life is gonna change? Where ya just feel like you’re being driven head long into something ya don’t want but ya ain’t got no choice?” He asked curiously, testing her again.

She met his look interestedly, curious as to his intent,“kinda? When my Dad was diagnosed with terminal cancer I felt like that. I wanted to rage at the unfairness of it all.” She explained, trying her best to relate.

Seemingly satisfied, he continued, “This was one of those moments.” He explained, gesturing at his neck tattoo, his cigarette between his fingers, “Vince branded me at eleven, and that was it. I was Balthuman. No choice. No say. Just this fuckin’ collar on my neck for the rest of my goddamn life, a giant ‘beware I bite’ sign to every new person I met from then on. Ya got any idea what it’s like to be in primary school with a gang tattoo? The way teachers look at ya? The way people cross the street to get away from ya while they whisper?” He closed his eyes as if to shield himself from the lifetime of judgement.

Poppy gazed at him sorrowfully, her eyes glazing with a sheen of unshed tears for the boy behind the man. “That’s horrible.” She whispered.

His eyes snapped open and he chuckled, “ya get used to it.” He waved off her concern, taking another drag of his cigarette. “I was an angry kid. Took it out on anyone I could. Was a real jack ass to my brother. I took his pants once when he threatened to tell Vince I was cuttin’ class. Just left him there, in his underwear on the school grounds. Told him to walk home. I’m not sure he ever forgave me for that one.” He muttered wistfully, an amused smirk on his lips.

“Who’s your brother? Another child Vincent kidnapped?” She interjected, her pen poised to jot down his response.

Tora ignored her, stubbing out the butt of his cigarette on the table. He reached up, tugging on the elastic holding his half bun in place. Stretching it around his fingers he attempted to put all his hair up. He exhaled heavily in disappointment when the elastic snapped on him as he attempted to twist it into place. “Here, take mine,” Poppy offered, tugging her strawberry hair tie from her tresses before handing it over to him.

“Thanks,” he muttered, twisting it into his hair easily, grateful to have his heavy mane off his neck.

“So your brother?” Poppy encouraged hopefully.

Tora glanced at her briefly in silence as he took his time lighting another cigarette; his silence signaling to her that her question would remain unanswered as he forged on. “The shit Vince told me to do got worse as I got older, but the punishment for not following orders got more twisted. He would still beat the living shit outta me, but he’d stop in between blows, telling me what a good boy I was, how proud he was of how I was turnin’ out. Then he’d hit me again, asking why the fuck I was so stupid and couldn’t follow simple orders when I held such _potential_.” He spat the final word in distain as he shook his head in disgust, trying to dispel the memory.

“Potential for what?” Poppy breathed in morbid fascination, knowing she shouldn’t ask but feeling compelled to.

He sneered at her, “Use your fuckin’ imagination.”

She stared down at her toes for a moment, feeling ashamed. He didn’t need to tell her anything. She’d hold her tongue the next time. She wanted desperately to tell him she didn’t want to use her imagination though. Hers was quite vivid and she’d read too many crime novels. Was he talking about murder? Torture? Theft? Violence in general? She settled on assault. She’d seen his rap sheet. How Gil had gotten his hands on it she wasn’t sure but she certainly knew more about him than he thought she did. “Sorry.” She whispered.

He sighed, “don’t be. Sorry. I’m just prickly.” He apologized, unwilling to admit his affinity with guns or the fact he hadn’t missed a target since he was fifteen. He was good with his hands, no doubt, but he preferred guns. It allowed him to lie to himself about the amount of blood on his hands. Being so physically far from his victims meant no body clean up. No physical exertion on his part. Vince had no idea how many hours he’d spent practicing on the range. Determined to be the best, to avoid having to use his hands as much as humanly possible. Unlike Vince, he took no pleasure in hurting people; he only did it when he had to.

Poppy gazed at him earnestly, urging him to continue his story with her eyes. He stared through her, focused on a spot on the wall behind her head and long suppressed memories. “Eventually I got big enough Vince quick tryin’ to physically punish me; I know now he probably worried what would have happened if I ever tried to hit him back. I think my violence scared him; maybe even surpassed his own, but by then he already had me so fucked up I felt like I didn’t know right from wrong,” he paused, scratching his forehead with the back of his thumb, sometimes he felt like he was still trying to figure out that balance between right and wrong and the life he’d been dealt. “All I knew was to fear his retaliation should I disobey.” He continued, “It was around that age I also started takin’ shit he said as literally or as loosely as possible. Focusin’ on those technicalities we talked about.” He reminded her before continuing, “Interpreting his orders the way I wanted to. Doin’ only what I was good with. What I felt fit my moral code.” He explained, pausing to take a drag of his cigarette.

~ ~ ~

Quincey sat up in his desk chair and paused the recording, backing it up, replaying something he’d never connected before. “so fucked up I felt like I didn’t know right from wrong, just-” He stopped it again, backed it up, hit play, “I felt I didn’t know right from wrong.” Quincey was furious as he recalled the last time Tora had spoken to him.

~ ~ ~

**_The Night of Vincent’s Murder_ **

Quincey laid out the animal print dress shirt over his bed, turning back to his closet for his trousers when his phone rang on his nightstand. He took a moment to collect his pants before wandering over to the other side of the bed, picking up the call on the fourth ring. “Hey boo-”

“Quincey. Don’t talk. Just listen to me.” Tora barked at him as his leg bounced nervously. He was parked near the police station, his car sequestered in a dark alley just down the street.

Quincey rolled his eyes and folded his arms, annoyed but used to his brother’s brusqueness. “I want you to hear this from me, before anyone one else gets to ya.” Tora explained; his voice hesitant now. His hand trembled as he held the stub of a cigarette between the fingers of his free hand. He’d smoked six before gathering enough of his nerves to call Quincey. The sticky sensation on his chest made him want to puke.

Quinceton sighed, “I swear to god Tora, if you cut someone off and crashed another one of my ca-”

Tora cut him off, “Vince is dead.” He blurted, cursing himself silently as soon as the words left his lips. He’d spent so much time working himself up to make the call he hadn’t even stopped to think about how to levy the blow gently. Quincey was never going to forgive him for this. Not what he’d done, but what he was about to do. He drew on what was left of his cigarette harshly.

The young mafia prince’s pants fell into a crumpled pile at his feet as the blonde man sank into a seated position on the side of his bed. “Who? How?” he mumbled quietly into the phone before the question that would haunt him for months afterwards spilled from his lips, “ _why_?”

There was a pregnant pause and then, “I… I did what I thought was right.” A click followed, and then heavy silence.

Quincey had sat there in stunned silence, for how long he wasn’t sure, trying but failing to process what Tora had just told him. Yet, no matter how many times he ran it through his mind he couldn’t make sense of it. _Tora had killed his father? Tora had killed his Dad. Tora had murdered Vince?_ No matter how many different ways he rephrased it, nothing seemed right. The bizarre sensation of unease and unbalance would hound his every waking moment for the foreseeable future.

When he’d collected his wits, he attempted to dial his brother, intent on demanding answers from the dark man whose phone was now disconnected. Quincey was not prone to violent tendencies or rash decisions. Quite the opposite in fact, he was without a doubt, the weakest link when it came to strength of spine in his family lineage. However, in this particular moment, the blood coursing through his veins overrode his meek sensibilities. He dialed another number, his eyes hard, his scar bisected by the angry creases of the lines on his face.

Martin picked up on the first ring, “Young mast-”

“Vincent is dead. Tora. Find him. That’s an order.” He snapped before hanging up on the man who had been his father’s loyal foot soldier since long before his own birth. Martin would find Tora, would drag his brother back to him, so he could demand answers. So he could make sense of this mess.

~ ~ ~

Quincey frowned, repeating the small section of the recording for the sixth time. “I felt like I didn’t know right from wrong.” Was that why he’d done it? He’d been confused? Had killed his father thinking it was the right thing to do? The thought enraged him. How could killing Vince be the right thing to do? How could him sitting here, a mess, absent his brother and his father be the right thing? How could his father rotting in the ground be the right thing? Tora rotting behind bars be the right thing? Why would Tora ever _choose_ to be caged again? No. Tora was wrong. So very, very wrong. Nothing about what he’d done was _right_.

He exited out of the recording, too angry to continue listening to his brother’s voice. His betrayal ran too deep. He knew Vincent had put him through hell. He _knew_. He’d been spared and sheltered through most of it, thus their strained relationship as children. He’d been horrified to hear the extent of it from his brother’s own lips the first time he’d listened to the recording but Tora had explained it all away. Put it in perspective.

Quincey pushed his chair back away from his desk and began pacing. Vincent was violent and harsh and cruel but it was the territory of his position, his title, his lineage. It wasn’t like _he’d_ never been hit before. Vincent had raised his fist to him many times. Hell, his father’s ring was responsible for the scar that bisected his eye. He knew what it was like to be on the receiving end of Vincent’s ‘disappointment’. Perhaps not as often as Tora but he still knew. Tora had lived with it though, worked through it all. Suppressed it.

He stopped in front of his ceiling to floor window and gazed out at the twinkling city below him. Tora had had motive enough to kill Vincent for years if he’d been so inclined. Quincey was missing something. Something big. Tora wouldn’t have just snapped. It wasn’t in his nature. He didn’t hurt anyone unless he felt it was justified. Necessary.

Quinceton resumed his pacing. Tora was intelligent, calculated, reserved. Quincey had seen his father’s body. There was nothing reserved or calculated about the injuries his father had sustained. Especially the bullet. It wasn’t perfect. The entry wound a little too far left and too far down. None of it rang true. He’d missed something. Something very important. Tapping his fist to his open palm Quinceton resumed his seat at his computer. Opening the mp3 file Gil had sent him once more.

~ ~ ~

**_The Third Interview_ **

“Where was I?” Tora asked after a long minute, having gotten lost in a memory momentarily.

Poppy eyed him cautiously, “you were talking about your moral code.” She reminded him.

He nodded, taking a drag on his cigarette before continuing, “Right.” His eyes gleamed for a moment and Poppy wondered briefly if the hint of tears was a result of emotion or the burn of his cigarette smoke. “I don’t hurt women and children.” He explained, “I’ve done some pretty fucked up shit in my life, but I’ve never hurt a kid.” He insisted, finally meeting her gaze, needing desperately for this stranger to believe him, to see something good and worthwhile when she looked at him.

She considered him for a long pregnant moment before she nodded at him once. Just a slight dip of her chin, but it was enough. Her belief. Her reassurance that she didn’t believe him capable of harming an individual so helpless. “So then what? How did you get the nickname?” She asked, changing the topic.

Tora chuckled darkly, “The Tiger ya mean?”

“Yeah, it’s quite the title,” she commented, her tone of voice unimpressed.

He shrugged, “I was good at what I did. When you’re raised by wolves and ya sit high enough on the food chain ya even scare the big boss, people get creative. I sure as shit didn’t come up with it. Fuckin’ hate it actually.”

Poppy’s face scrunched in confusion, “why?” she asked without thought.

The heat of his gaze singed her, “Ya ever seen a Tiger maul a man? They’re fuckin’ vicious. Vince already referred to me as his attack dog; I didn’t need the reminder from others that they saw me as something less than human too…a monster.” His lip peeled back in disgust, “I was loved or hated depending on who ya asked, but no one called me that out of respect Poppylan. Only fear. It was only ever…always fear.” He admitted dejectedly, his body sagging, his rage seeping out of him as he uttered the final two words, replaced with a sadness Poppy had never seen before. Her heart ached for him. He’d admitted himself that he’d done terrible things, but her conscious screamed at her that he was more than the sum of his worst actions. He was a good man deep down…maybe. Well…she hoped anyways.

Tora laughed mirthlessly at the question reflecting back at him in her eyes. “Ya decide if you’re scared of me yet sweetheart?” He asked ominously.

Breaking eye contact, Poppy gazed down at her notebook, steeling her resolve before raising her gaze, meeting his once more. “Tell me what happened that night. Tell me what happened to Vincent. Then I’ll make my decision.”

Tora opened his mouth to continue when Rodrick called out, “visiting hours are over.”

Tora winked at her and stood, pocketing the remainder of his cigarettes. “Sorry sweetheart, looks like you’re gonna have to come visit me again to get the rest of your story.” He teased, “thanks again for these.” He said gesturing at the cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth, “and the elastic,” he said over his shoulder to her as he left the room, heading back to his cage.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience with me! I'm so glad to see so many of you so invested in this story. :D Can't wait to read what you think. ♥
> 
> Song:  
> Put it on the Line - The Heavy (Tora)  
> How Can You Sleep at Night? - Tom Walker (Quincey)

Quincey closed his eyes and replayed the tape a second time before shutting it off. He slumped in his chair, his forehead cradled in his palm as his elbow rested heavily on the arm rest. Just a few more days, a few more days and he’d have answers. It bothered him that Poppy, the woman he’d only ever seen in photos was going to hear the details of his own father’s demise before he did; but that was the nature of being underhanded wasn’t it? He wondered if his father had ever questioned himself and his actions as deeply as Quincey was doing now. He wanted to talk to Tora himself, had tried for weeks before concocting his little scheme. The man was obstinate in his refusal to see him though, let alone speak to him.

His privilege and position held the power to force Tora to hold the phone in the warden’s office to his ear as Quincey raged at him, cried, demanded he tell him why he’d murdered their father. Why Tora had abandoned him, but all the privilege in the world could not compel Tora to speak if he didn’t want to. The officers were right. ‘Stonewall’ was an apt nickname for the fallen ‘Tiger’. Although Quincey could hear Tora breathing softly on the other end of the line, he never uttered a word back to him. Not a single syllable. He’d continued to force Tora onto the phone with him in vain until he’d received his note. He had deduced the young reporter had delivered it for him. He sighed and pulled open his drawer, gazing down at the wrinkled line sheet of paper, his brother’s harsh words marring it.

Tora hadn’t given him a choice. He’d bought The Globe and Narin with his considerable inheritance out of desperation. There had to be someone in that office that could convince Tora to open his mouth, to trace a picture of that night for him. When he’d instructed Gil with this task, this article for his eyes only, the man had been reluctant. Quincey had been furious when the man had brushed the assignment off onto a new hire, someone with nothing of note in their portfolio. Despite this, she had been successful where he had failed.

He forced himself to stand and wandered back to his bedroom, climbing into bed for what he predicted would be another futile attempt to sleep. Just like with Tora and his eternal search for the truth though, he had to try.

~ ~ ~

Tora stared at the ceiling of his cell, his eyes fixed on the slight crack in the cement as he fiddled with the strawberry elastic in his hand. He wondered how Quincey was doing. He hadn’t been forced into the warden’s office again since his first meeting with Poppy. He was both relieved and disappointed. He missed the princess. Quincey’s recent flex of power had been an eye open indication of just how pissed off he was. Quincey didn’t like flaunting his birth right, throwing his weight around wasn’t his style. The last time he’d done it had been after that fucktwat Morrision had fucked him over. Tora sighed and closed his eyes, remembering the last time he’d heard from his brother.

~ ~ ~

**_Early Afternoon, the Day of the First Interview_ **

“Why? Why won’t you talk to me!” Quincey screamed into the phone. Tora closed his eyes against the emotion in his brother’s screeching. “I don’t understand Tora! I’m so confused! Talk to me!”

Tora sighed heavily, the rush of air Quincey’s only indication he was listening. “You turned yourself into Lane for protection didn’t you? Why didn’t you come to me? I know I sent Martin after you but god damn it Tora what was I supposed to do after you drop a bomb on me like that and then go MIA?” He snapped, “Do you have any idea how many people want you dead?” Tora smirked a little at that, when exactly had people not wanted him dead? The only new development was the number of fellow Balthuman wanting to spill his blood now. “I’m serious Tora, everyone but me has a hit on you. The bribe money I’m feeding the warden will only keep you protected in isolation for so long. My world is falling apart over here. Nothing makes sense, trying to get through this alone…I can’t… I need you.” He whispered the last three words dejectedly.

Quincey held the phone so tightly in his hand his fingers were turning white as he listened longingly for a reply. A simple, ‘I’m sorry for being a dick Quince, this is all just a big misunderstanding.’ No words came though, just like the last time, and the time before that. “Tora,” he inhaled slowly, “please just tell me why? Let me send you Cordy, get you out of this bind and bring you home? I can forgive you for this Tora,” his voice broke, a sniffle coming through the line, “all I need to know is _why_.”

Tora inhaled sharply, his brother’s small broken pleas testing the will of his resolve. This wasn’t about him though, it wasn’t even about Quincey. He needed to do what was right; for once in his life he wasn’t confused about what he should do. It wasn’t just his life on the line right now. As much as he trusted Quincey, he couldn’t betray his promise, he'd put too much on the line already to go back now. He couldn’t _talk_ to Quincey, the man always knew when he was lying and Tora didn’t have any choice but to lie; to omit. “Tell me and I’ll put some money on your account for cigarettes?” Quincey offered, dangling the only carrot he had left. He’d cut off Tora’s money flow over a month ago. He knew the man had to be itching for a smoke.

Tora smirked, doing his best not to laugh. Quinceton was desperate now, he’d admit that taking his smokes had been a dick move but it wasn’t as though he’d left his brother very many options and Quincey had always been creative with manipulation. Unlike his father, Quinceton preferred to use his wits rather than his fists when extracting information. It wouldn’t work though. He heard Quincey huff on the other end of the line. “I will find out what happened eventually Tora.” He warned, “I’m hanging up now. Be safe okay?” A click and then a dial tone echoed in his ear.

Tora frowned and held the phone out towards the warden. Quincey was right. If he didn’t say something eventually, someone would go digging and then all he’d done would be for not; but if not Quincey, _who the fuck did he tell_?

~ ~ ~

Tora glanced down at the strawberry elastic woven between his fingers, a small smile on his lips. He needed to get his story straight. She’d be back in a few days, looking for an explanation, details. He closed his eyes, remembering everything being in the Mafia had taught him about deceit. A convincing lie was one that was close to the truth. Omission was the key to a convincing farce, not outright falsehoods. He sighed. He’d never been a good liar, keeping the truth straight was hard enough in his line of work. He didn’t need other realities clogging up his mind. He’d just tell her what had happened, minus some pretty key details. Enough so that when Quincey read her story, when he saw it in the paper, he’d be satisfied along with the rest of Narin’s population. After all, who wouldn’t believe he’d just snapped? People had been questioning his sanity for years.

He sighed, smoothing his thumb over the strawberry in his opposite hand. He was looking forward to seeing Poppy again. They only let him out of his cell for one hour a day and he used it to workout. When she came to see him, he got an extra half hour of freedom. He was enjoying their little visits, if for no other reason than some human company. He liked the way she looked at him, talked back to him. He smiled to himself. She was a feisty little thing, reminded him a bit of a hamster with her cute ass cheeks and…and…he frowned. And _nothing_. She was gonna get her story and then she was going to fuck right off. Wasn’t she? Wasn’t that what everyone did when they got what they wanted? What did he think was going to happen? She’d just keep visiting him for the rest of his life in here?

He furrowed his brow in contemplation. He was being ridiculous. She was just a girl. She had the best ass he’d seen in a while but she was still just a girl. Nothing was going to happen. She was a journalist. He was a fuckin’ Mafioso. A hitman. An _idiot_ just like her stupid cheating ex. _And she’s a means to an end,_ he scolded himself.

He was still for a long moment before he smirked to himself. Just because she was a means to an end didn’t mean he couldn’t have a little fun teasing her though right? 

~ ~ ~

**_The Fourth Interview_ **

Poppy looked on as the correctional officer patted down Tora before allowing him to wander slowly over to their preferred table; the one in the corner, away from the rest of the inmates and their families. She frowned, only now recognizing what a large birth the rest of the inmates gave him. In all the time she’d spent visiting with him, not a single one had even offered him a friendly smile despite how many of them they seemed to exchange amongst themselves. “Hey,” he greeted, sliding into the seat opposite her.

She looked at him sadly, “hey yourself,” she murmured, her heart breaking all over again for the man she’d come to know so intimately after only three visits. She must have listened to the recording of their third meeting a hundred times since the last time they’d been together. She’d dissected every word, every intonation, inflection, every sigh and she couldn’t help but come away from it with a deeper appreciation for the man before her.

He eyed her curiously, “y’okay?” he asked quietly, his brows furrowed in concern at the look maring her delicate features.

She nodded reassuringly, “yeah, I brought you something.” She told him, turning to dig through her bag for a moment before procuring two packs of Marlbo for him. She slid them across the table to him.

A grin crossed his face as he stared at her in awe, “shit woman, I think I love ya.” He teased, a twinkle in his eye, “What’s the occasion? I didn’t ask for those.”

“Payment,” she murmured, regretting it instantaneously when his smile faltered replaced a fraction of a second later with a lazy smirk that didn’t reach his eyes. Those were cold now as he met her gaze.

“Straight down to business eh sweetheart? Guess my love affair is a little one sided ain’t it?” He joked, “guess I ain’t green enough for ya eh?” He teased, the double entendre referring to both her beloved plants and his dirtied conscious.

She rolled her eyes, feigning lightheartedness when in reality she could tell she’d wounded him. “When you start photosynthesizing, call me.” She teased him right back, hoping to avoid any awkwardness between them.

He broke the seal on the first pack, already reaching for a cigarette, “ya bring a light too?” he inquired, pointedly ignoring her joke.

Poppy nodded, pulling that out of her bag for him as well. “What happened to the one from last time?” she asked curiously.

He shrugged disinterestedly, his fingers brushing hers lightly as he extracted the lighter from her grasp. “Contraband, confiscated.” He explained in annoyance, “Took the cigarettes too, right after ya left.” When she just frowned, he added hopefully, “take them with ya when ya leave and bring them back for me next time.”

Her frown deepened, _next time_? He was going to tell her the details of Vincent’s passing today, she was going to record it. There would be no need to visit him again after today. She kept that to herself, choosing not to respond to his request. Perhaps she could put some money on his account so he could buy cigarettes from the prison? As a thank you for agreeing to talk to her? She supposed it was the least she could do. “Your week okay?” He inquired, his question shaking her from her thoughts.

“Oh yeah, it was good. Finished up another story I’ve been working on, how ‘bout you?” she asked thoughtlessly.

He chuckled and exhaled smoke, “I’m in prison. I sleep in a cage. How ya think I’ve been?” He teased her in amusement.

A blush crept up her cheeks, “sorry, that was tactless of me.” She murmured.

He shrugged, “It’s fine. It’s my own doing.” He explained flippantly, leaning back in his seat.

She bit her lip in indecision, “I wanted to ask you about that actually,” she ventured, “I don’t get it. Why did you turn yourself in?” she asked in puzzlement. When she’d spoken to Lane, the lead detective she’d told her that Tora had just walked into the police station, told her where to find Vince’s body and then had refused to say another word. _Nine hours, s_ he reminded herself. Nine hours and the only thing he’d said during that time was, ‘mind if I take a piss before we start?’.

Tora stared at her hard, seemingly trying to burn a hole through her, after a long moment he asked, “On or off the record?”

Poppy canted her head to the side slightly; unable to shake the feeling he was testing her again. That this was one of those moments he’d talked about. The profound ones that directly impacted the future, helped mold you into the person you would become. “…off?” she whispered quietly, hoping it was the response he was seeking.

He leaned over the table towards her, beckoning her nearer to him with one curled finger. “Ya swear to me I won’t read about this if I choose to trust ya?” He clarified. She nodded mutely, swallowing thickly. They had never been this close before. He dipped his mouth to her ear, his gaze spanning the room before focusing in on the silk strands of her hair and the soft shell of her ear. “I turned myself in to protect someone.” He whispered, his warm breath caressing her ear.

Poppy held still, her chest crushed against her forearms, her bottom hovering off the bench seat as she waited for more. She blinked in confusion when he pulled away. He arched a brow at her in amusement when she continued to lean over the table, frozen in place. “Ya gonna sit down or do I just get to enjoy the view this whole visit?” He asked, dropping his eyes meaningfully to the cleavage she had unintentionally put on display for him. He grinned at her as she shoved herself backwards, slamming her tush into her chair.

“I thought you were going to say something more!” She exclaimed in embarrassment.

He chuckled darkly, “nope. That’s it.” Poppy sat still, gazing at him silently. He had turned himself in to protect someone else? Who? Why? It didn’t make any sense.

“Who would stand to gain protection from you when you’re trapped in here?” she whispered in confusion.

He laughed at her again, “Come on sweetheart, thought we talked about that last time. I’m the ‘Tiger of Ares Street’, everyone’s safer with me locked up and off the streets.” He teased, purposely trying to derail her train of thought.

She frowned, smart enough to realize what he was doing, she tucked his little tidbit of information into the back of her mental filing cabinets for later before changing the topic like he very obviously wanted her to. “Why did you agree to talk to me? When you won’t speak to anyone else?” she murmured, asking the real question that had been plaguing her all week.

Tora looked down at the floor for a moment, then back at her, his fingers reaching for the cigarette on his lips. “I’m either gonna rot or bleed out in here, no matter whether I admit guilt or maintain my innocence. The prosecution will come up with plenty of reasons to keep me behind bars. Even if they can’t nail me for Vincent, without the wealth and lawyers of the Balthuman behind me, I’m a sitting duck. They’re keeping me in isolation for my own safety. Lots of people have wanted me dead for years. The other Balthuman want my head for what I supposedly did to Vince. Without the protection of a crew, the other gangs think they got a shot at me in here. My brother warned me on the phone the first day ya came to see me that other clan leaders have put a bounty on my head.” He sighed, leaving out the fact that Quincey had then gone on to beg him to tell him what had happened, offering his protection in exchange. “It’s just a matter of time. Figured I could do something nice for someone else with the time I got left.”

Poppy gaped at him, Jesus. She’d had no idea. “Something nice?” she repeated in confusion.

He cocked a brow at her, “ya said ya needed me. My story. To save your career. Make ya look good with your boss. Was that all bullshit?” He asked, a dangerous edge to his voice.

She shook her head profusely, “I’ve been nothing but honest with you!” she cried, her hand on her chest.

He smiled at her, both dimples on display, “course ya have been Bobby. You’re an honest person. That’s why I’m still talkin’ to ya.” He reassured, leaning back in his chair lazily as he smoked.

She frowned pulling out her recorder. She hit the button decorated with the small red circle. “Alright then Tora, tell me what I came here for. What happened the night Vincent died?” she asked him.

Tora looked at her for a long moment, long enough Poppy worried he might change his mind before he finally opened his mouth, “Vince was pissed…”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy! Let me know what you think! Happy chapter day! ♥   
> Also, just as with all my other stories, this one will have a happy ending. I promise.
> 
> Song:  
> When A Girl by CARYS (Poppy)  
> Shake Me Down by Cage the Elephant (Tora)

**_A week before Quincey bought The Globe and Narin_ **

“You should stop this and just come home,” Julri advised disinterestedly, his attention fixed on the subtitles flitting across the television screen on the other side of the room.

“I can’t, I didn’t come this far to give up!” Poppy argued as she paced her small apartment anxiously. “I can’t just...I sacrificed so much for this.” She muttered, a hand buried in her hair, pushing her bangs away from her face as tears welled in her eyes.

Julri shrugged and sighed, “What can ya do? You gave it your best shot Popsicle. Better you quit than have them fire you. Looks better on a resume. You don’t want to screw yourself out of a job here by holding on there.” He warned, “You said yourself, you’re in a dying field. I still don’t know what you were thinking going all the way out to Narin when your Dad’s connections at the Moonbright Press would have gotten you a job here. I mean come on Pops, you aren’t exactly Globe and Narin material right?”

Poppy was silent a long moment, her lips pursed together as a tear escaped the corner of one eye. Why was he always like this? Why couldn’t he be more supportive? Did he have any idea how much he hurt her sometimes? Was it intentional? She didn’t want to believe that. “I believe in me, even if you don’t.” She murmured so quietly she wasn’t even sure if the words were meant for him or for herself.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Julri snapped, his eyes now on the phone sitting on the end table beside him. “I’m the one that’s over here without you while you chase your silly dream doing god knows what without me.” He accused.

She closed her eyes against the anger in his voice and resumed her pacing, “nothing, nothing Julri. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it. You’re right; staying home would have been the safer option.” _I don’t want to play it safe my whole life though!_ Her mind rebelled against the idea. “I just…want something more.”

Julri’s face twisted in disgust, “more huh?” he sneered, his tone belaying his feelings clearly for her.

“You know I didn’t mean it like that, don’t twist this. Not again.” She begged, she hated when he was like this. Sometimes he was wonderful, those moments; those glimmers of happiness were why she was still with him. Lately, they’d been scarcer and scarcer though. Before he could reply she changed the topic, “Are we still getting together next week? Can I still come for dinner?” she asked, hopeful her desire to see him would appease him.

Julri was silent a long moment, his anger forgotten as his eyes drifted back to the tv, “yeah, I guess, wear something nice.” He commented off headedly, “My mom made a comment last time you were here.” He told her cryptically, “oh and put on some make up.” He added as an afterthought.

She closed her eyes, the comments threatening to topple what little was left of her self-confidence. “Okay…got it.” She murmured dejectedly.

He glanced at the phone on speaker from the corner of his eye, “okay, got it? That’s it Babe? You upset or something?” He asked, feigning concern.

A sigh escaped her as she fought for patience; she was about to open her mouth and reassure him when he cut her off, angered by the rush of exasperated air he’d heard on his end, “oh here we go, what’s wrong with you? I said I supported you didn’t I? I was just trying to give you some advice.”

She replied before he could continue, “yeah, I know. Listen. Do you think maybe you could come here this time instead? Maybe come see my apartment? It’s expensive to take the train and with me maybe going to lose my job out here I-”

“You’re the one that wanted to move out there.” He pointed out, “besides you always see your Gran when you come back.” He argued, annoyed by the idea of wasting his time on the train.

Poppy’s shoulders slumped in disappointment, “okay-”

Julri turned his head towards the door with a small grin when he heard a knock. Mimi had finally arrived. “I gotta go Pops, see you next week.” He told her, promptly ending the call, not even waiting for a reply.

Poppy stood in the middle of her livingroom, her phone pressed to her ear as she stared blankly at the far wall. Why did conversations always feel so…so…she didn’t even know anymore. Off? _Was this still right?_ She thought as she stood beside her bed. She pulled back her covers and crawled in, pulling the sheets to her chin as she stared up at the ceiling in contemplation. He was being supportive right? In his own way? He told her all the time he was just trying to look out for her. She flipped onto her other side, then why did it feel so wrong, so mean? Did he just miss her? Was that the problem? She rolled onto her back. She’d left him, long distance was hard. She felt lonely a lot. Was he lonely too? Was that what was making him act like this? A small voice at the back of her mind spoke up, whispering softly the same way it had for months to leave him. _Should_ she? She closed her eyes, work was exhausting. Her anxiety and worry was exhausting. _Julri, is exhausting_ , she thought as sleep claimed her.

**_The Night Of Vincent’s Murder_ **

“Stupid motherfuckin’ pigs. Just wait till I get my hands…” Vincent growled before trailing off, turning his sights on the younger man sitting next to him in the Subaru. “No.” He corrected, his face morphing from a demonic scowl into something borderline pleasant, “not my hands.” Vince grinned wickedly, the expression making Tora suppress a shiver of unease. “Your hands.” The older man amended, clapping Tora on the shoulder.

The young man fought off the urge to shudder again and brush the older man’s hand away. Instead he sat stone still, keeping his breathing even, eyes on the road, hoping desperately for the moment when Vince would remove his hand from his body. When it didn’t come, Vincent’s eyes just piercing into his own, Tora reached into the pocket of his hoodie with his free hand for his cigarettes. He lit one, taking a long drag. The nicotine helping him feel a little more at ease despite the weight of his tormentor’s hand upon him.

Vincent chuckled to himself and pat the young man’s shoulder. “You won’t let me down son, will you?” he asked, a serene smile on his lips. Tora rolled his eyes up towards the roof of the car, willing patience. “Of course you won’t,” Vince finished cheerily as he finally took his hand back.

Tora sighed in relief, “let’s just get this over with. Quincey wants me to swing by later.” He mumbled around his cigarette.

The older man’s face contorted in contempt, “more of his pervy bullshit? When the hell is he going to give that shit up? I swear, if he wasn’t my only son…” he growled.

Closing his eyes, Tora called upon his considerable patience and kept his mouth shut. Quincey hadn’t said anything about beta reading for him tonight. He’d said he wanted to talk to him about Cordy. Apparently Quincey wasn’t satisfied with just being her fuckboy anymore. He wanted a relationship, a real one, and wanted to practice what to say to convince her with him. Tora snorted, a small smirk crossing his face, still deeply amused by the request. He wasn’t sure what good he was going to be for Quincey. Wasn’t like he had any experience in that department, fuckboy was all _he’d_ ever been. Well, to women anyways.

Vince smiled at Tora affectionately, mistaking the man’s amusement for commiseration. “I shouldn’t be whining to you about him. He’s even more of a pain in the ass for you than he is for me.” He joked.

Tora’s brows narrowed in frustration as he took a heavy drag of his cigarette. Fuck Vincent. Sometimes he wondered how such a caring guy like Quincey had been spawned from the evil incarnate sitting beside him. He wanted desperately for Vince to stop talking. To just _shut the fuck up_. “Cut the chummy crap, ya know I hate it.” Tora snapped. He hated when Vince…well, he just hated Vince in general but he especially hated when the man attempted to relate to him, pretend they had anything other than a fucked up master-slave relationship in common.

Vincent’s brows drew together ominously, “If you were anyone else you’d have a bullet between your eyes for speaking to me that way,” he warned. “One day I’m going to get sick of putting up with your fucking mouth and shut you up for good.”

Tora just turned and glared out the window as he pulled up next to the curb, down the street from the safe house. “Put on the fucking gloves,” Vincent snarled as he slapped Tora in the chest with a pair of black leather gloves, his own already on.

Tugging the glove down his wrist Tora opened the car door and stepped out of the car, Vincent on his heels.

~ ~ ~

**_The Fourth Interview_ **

“Vince was pissed…he wanted revenge against a drug dealer that’d been skimming, fucking him over. The guy had cheated him out of something in the neighbourhood of 250Gs.” Tora explained, “He wanted some of the fellas along as muscle, to help him deliver a message. He caught up with the dumbass in the alley of an apartment building.” He took a drag of his cigarette and exhaled slowly. “Only problem was that Vince got a little carried away, hit the guy a little too hard if ya know what I’m saying.”

Poppy’s stomach rolled, “he killed him? In front of you?” she breathed in shock. Reading about this type of thing second hand verses hearing about it in person was so much more disquieting.

Tora cocked a brow at her, “I never said I was there,” he clarified for the recording. He leaned over and pressed on the record button, pausing the tape. He stared Poppy down, “ya get I’m on trial for murder right? Don’t ask me to admit to jack shit, I’m not looking to add accessory after the fact to my rap sheet, ya feel me?” He warned. In truth he hadn’t been there, if he had, nothing would have gone down in that alley. He wasn’t that stupid.

She nodded and hit the record button again. “Why didn’t you report this to the police?” she asked, giving him the opportunity to redeem himself on tape.

Tora smirked at her, glad she wasn’t actively trying to fuck him. “By the time I heard about it, it was old news. Police had already found the body.” He explained, continuing to tell the truth. Vince hadn’t told him shit until after it had already hit the fan. “Anyways, Vince was even more pissed that the guy couldn’t tell him what he’d done with the money after he was down for the count. Apparently he really went to town on the guy. He hit the ceiling a few days later when a little birdy told him he and the guys with him hadn’t been the only people in the alley that night.” He explained in disgust.

“Turns out another little birdy had ratted on him. Had seen the whole thing from the fire escape and was willing to testify to what they’d seen.” He explained with a scowl, his finger pointed at the ceiling. It still pissed him off that Vince had fucked up so badly. Tora _always looked up_ , and around and fucking _behind him_ , hell, he was so paranoid he looked _everywhere_ , even when he wasn’t doing anything shady. Then again Vince was never reasonable or clever when he was angry; his single minded rage was a source of never ending frustration for Tora. “So Vince gets it in his head he’s gonna take care of the mess he’s made. Figures if he takes out this witness, there’s nothing to connect him to the crime.” He stopped and took another long drag of his cigarette, studying Poppy closely as he tried to gauge her reaction.

She was breathless, completely enthralled by his story. It was every true crime drama she’d ever read brought to life. She was still having trouble wrapping her head around the notion she was the one sitting here, talking to him, getting this first-hand account. Being the _first_ to find out what had happened to Vincent Balthman, the kingpin of gang crime. She was practically giddy with the excitement of it all. Tora’s face soured and he pressed the pause button on her recorder again. “You’re enjoying this aren’t ya?” he questioned.

Poppy’s eyes rounded in horror at his tone, “oh, oh no. Please, this is awful and insidious and…maybe a tinsy bit…thrilling?” she admitted, her face flushing in shame.

Tora smoked his cigarette a moment longer, just staring at her as she squirmed under the weight of his gaze. “Ya ain’t one of those girls that sends loves letters to serial killers are ya?” He asked, hoping he hadn’t completely misjudged her. Was talking to her a mistake? He’d been so certain she was the right one to finally confide in.

Her hands flew out wildly in front of her chest, shaking in denial, “No! Oh god, NO! I cry when people kill bugs. This kind of thing doesn’t turn me on, just…I…” she sighed and closed her eyes momentarily, dropping her hands to her lap. “I find human beings… fascinating, our minds. Especially those on the fringes of society. The ones that do things most people would never be able to stomach.” She attempted to explain.

“People like me ya mean,” Tora muttered disgustedly.

Poppy nodded slightly, “yes and no. I take no pleasure reading or listening about horrid crimes. I do however take great interest in the explanations as to why they did what they did. It’s amazing to me how people justify the things they do, especially to others, and I’m not just talking about murder. Scandal intrigues me more, and systematic racism, oppression, cultural genocide. How we as a species can to horrific things to one another and then see some kind of justification in it. It just perplexes and intrigues me because I don’t see it. The logic I mean. I don’t understand how someone hurts another person and sees it as justifiable.” She explained, hoping he’d understand.

His brows narrowed at her explanation, “sometimes there is no good justification. Sometimes ya just don’t have a fuckin’ choice.” He stated flippantly.

Poppy sucked in a harsh breath, “you’ve never had much of a choice have you Tora?” she asked, sympathy reflecting in her eyes.

He took a long drag of his cigarette, holding in the smoke, contemplating how to reply to her statement, finally he exhaled. “Like I said last time, I don’t do anything I’m not good with anymore, haven’t for a long time. Moral code remember? Even thugs have rules, values, beliefs.” She gazed at him quizzically and he barked out a mirthless laugh. “What’s your why sweetheart?” He asked.

“Huh?” she questioned.

“Your why. The reason ya get up in the morning. The reason ya go to work every day and bother with life at all? My brother calls it your ‘raison d’être,’” he explained, his hand rolling on his wrist superfluously, the smoke circling from the lit end of his cigarette.

Her brows furrowed, “I’m a journalist,” she murmured.

He shook his head at her in disappointment, “naw sweetheart, that’s what ya do. I wanna know _why_ ya do it.” He attempted to clarify. “Family? Wanna make your dead Daddy proud? Money? Or is it fame? Ya wanna be a big time reporter? Wanna be respected?” he asked.

Poppy was silent a long moment, feeling deeply uncomfortable, “we’re here to talk about you, not me.” She challenged.

Tora’s lip curled in amusement at her attempt to deflect as he leaned in towards her, his hands cupping his elbows as he rested them on the table separating them. “That’s sad woman. Ya don’t know why ya get up in the morning? Even I know why I get up in the morning and my life is pretty much over.” He told her darkly.

Nibbling her bottom lip in indecision Poppy stared down at her fingers as she clenched and unclenched her fists together in her lap. She glanced up at his expectant stare before returning her gaze to her lap once more. “To prove them wrong.” she murmured quietly.

“Explain.” Tora demanded softly, gently, coaxing more out of her.

Poppy swallowed thickly and met his intrigued stare, “I’ve spent my whole life listening to people tell me what I can and can’t do. What I should and shouldn’t do. Living in people’s limited perception of who I am and who I can become. I was always the small kid, people took advantage of me, pushed me around, just because I was nice. They misinterpreted my kindness as weakness, my trust as naïveté.” She explained, her eyes turning hard, cold. “They’re wrong. Kindness is strength, trust is hard. Self-confidence is difficult. I can be anything I want to be. Including a hard hitting journalist. I’ll do whatever it takes to prove them wrong.” She spat, Julri at the forefront of her mind. “I know that, I just _know_ I’m right. I get up every morning because I have a clear sense of right and wrong now and who I want to be.” She paused for a moment, staring at him hard, “who I’m _going_ to be.” She told him firmly.

Tora smirked at her, his eyes bright, “I knew ya were the right one.” He murmured.

“Huh?” she muttered, blinking at him in confusion.

His smirk morphed into a smile, both his dimples on display as he brought his cigarette to his lips, “you and I share a why sweetheart. We’re both just doing what we think is right. Hopin’ someone else will see what we see when we look in the mirror,” He told her cryptically.

She eyed him, leaning in, her elbows resting on her side of the table, her body language mirroring his own as though they were conspiring together about some horrid secret. “What do you see when you look in the mirror Tora?” she whispered, her eyes hard, as if she were looking through him.

He chuckled, “wouldn’t you like to know little miss journalist.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this story is done. All 12 chapters :) All I have left to do is edit. Sorry about no update yesterday, had a lot of running around to do. As always, please let me know what you think! I love the commentary and all the theories ♥
> 
> Song:  
> While My Guitar Gently Weeps – cover by Regina Spektor

**_The Night of Vincent’s Murder_ **

Tora moved silently, quickly down the hallway, two cops, that had been it for protection. Pathetic. _Stupid_. Vince didn’t even need him. Vince had killed the one he’d taken out, because of course he had. Tora had just rolled his eyes when Vince had glared at him for only hitting his target in the temple with the butt of his gun. Being pistol whipped sucked but it was a hell of a better option than being dead. No body but the witness had to die tonight. What Vince had done was unnecessary. Lane was going to be livid. His gut rolled, he wondered if Lane knew the guy Vince had just killed. If he was a good man, if he was honest, had a family? Kids? “You take those two,” Vince instructed, holding out two fingers to the doors to his left. Tora dipped his chin in agreement before moving into the first room. Empty.

Second room, a man, sitting quietly, silently on the end of a bed, the fingers of his hands laced together in one big fist. His head hanging low on his shoulders. He turned his face to look at Tora, eying the large dark man up and down slowly before his gaze settled on the gun in his glove covered hand. “This is it eh? You’re here to kill me?” he whispered.

Tora met the man’s gaze head on. “Yeah… Sorry,” he replied quietly, wanting this done and over with. He scowled, fuck Vince for making him do this. The guy looked like an average Joe. Just in the wrong place at the wrong time, went to the police doing what he thought was right and where had that landed him? Here. Now. Staring down the barrel of a gun. Tora raised his arm, lining up his target. Better to get this over with quick. Painlessly.

He paused, his finger on the trigger as he glanced around the room. Something wasn’t right. The man was too ready, too calm. Too…okay with what was about to happen. He stared the man in the eyes for a long moment. There. Just now. For a half a second, the man with the goatee had shifted his gaze. To the right. Behind him. “You stupid motherfucking cunt. You thought you could take _me_ down?” Vince bellowed, shouldering Tora out of the way as he drove his fist into the witness’ face.

**_Six Days after the Fourth Interview_ **

Gyu pulled open the door of the posh lobby nervously; it was empty aside from a man with frosted tips who was lazily reading through a magazine. Closing the door, Gyu took three steps back and looked up at the numbers above the door, comparing them to the note in his hand. This place didn’t look right but it was what the note said. Sighing he opened the door once more and wandered into the lobby.

The receptionist looked up at the ginger haired man with the scruffy goatee, “you lost?” he asked.

Gyu ran his tongue along his teeth for a moment, deciding how to answer, “No, I know exactly where I’m going. Tora sent me.” He told the other man firmly, brushing by the desk as he made his way to the elevator. The receptionist was still looking at him with raised brows when the doors shut behind him and the lift began carrying him skywards. 

He gazed down at the note in his hand once more. _Noyouko_. With his free hand he brushed his fingers through his hair, stopping his hand at the back of his head he grabbed a fist full and held it there for a moment as he tipped his head back and closed his eyes. He hoped he was doing the right thing. Hoped this Noyouko would be able to help him.

~ ~ ~

Quincey frowned as he listened to the tape in his office for the seventh time, his brow twitching slightly. Tora was lying. He always paused before he lied, like he was rehearsing how to say it just right in his head before he blurted it out. His brother was a blunt man; he didn’t hesitate to speak the truth, even when it was hard. He backed up the tape and pressed play again. “So Vince ordered me to shoot him, and I just thought, nah. Fuck that. This guy didn’t deserve to die for Vince’s fuck up; and I knew in that moment this wouldn’t be the last innocent person he’d order me to kill. That didn’t fit with what I was good doing anymore.” _Truth, truth, truth, truth,_ there was a long pause, “So I shot him instead.” _LIES!_ Quincey’s mind hissed at him. “I was done taking orders, Vince was the one that deserved to die; all he did was cause pain and harm to whatever he touched.” _Truth._

Another long pause, “What? I don’t get it. That’s _it_?” Quincey scowled, sharing Poppy’s disbelief. Tora was a shit liar. “Why are you admitting this to me now when you wouldn’t admit guilt to the police? What was with all the ‘supposedlys’ and, and ‘apparentlys’? Why would you plead _not guilty_ if you did it?” That’s exactly what he wanted to know. He turned off the tape in disgust; he didn’t need to listen to more of Tora’s lies.

A soft rapping came at his door. Pushing himself out of his chair, he exited his office and wandered over to the front door. “Who is it?” He called out still a few feet away.

Gyu frowned as the voice came through the penthouse apartment door; this guy was as paranoid as Tora. “My name is Ronzo, Tora told me to come to you if I needed help and couldn’t reach him.” He called out.

Quincey eyed the door suspiciously, “Tora is in prison. He couldn’t have sent you.” He replied, already moving toward his kitchen drawer where he kept the pocket pistol Tora had hidden for him.

The man on the other side of the door pressed his forehead to the wood in defeat, willing but not completely ready to admit what he was about to say yet. “I know… I helped put him there.” Gyu stumbled forward as the door fell away from his head. He took two steps into the apartment before regaining his balance. He turned to look at the man he assumed to be Noyouko. Fierce aquamarine eyes glared at him from behind the nozzle of a Walther PPK.

~ ~ ~

 ** _Three Days after the Fourth Interview_**

Poppy was in her apartment, sitting at her desk, cross legged on a pillow. The keys of her laptop clacked quietly as she typed. _Inside the Mind of a Killer: The Murder of Vincent Balthuman,_ she frowned at her title. It was certainly captivating; people would want to read it. Her eyes moved over the words again as her stomach fluttered in protest. She closed her eyes and thought of the man she’d spent every Saturday with for the last month before backspacing the entire thing, trying again. _Tora Yeke, the Man, the Murderer._ She scowled and flopped onto her back, pulling a second pillow to her chest, hugging it tightly. _He is a murderer Poppy!_ She tried to remind herself. Her heart and her stomach continued to scream at her though. She lifted her head and stared at the screen. _The Man_. At least she’d tried to put his humanity before his actions? She dropped her head and pictured him, that smirk, the life in his eyes when they were off topic. The way he teased her as if they were having coffee in a café and not discussing a murder in a prison. The way he showed interest in her and wanted to know as much about her as she asked about him. How attentive he was, how..how…her eyes widened in disbelief.

She shook her head back and forth violently as she pulled the pillow up from her chest so she could bury her face in it and scream. She was _not_ falling for a killer on trial. Julri had been a bad idea. _Tora_ was a _terrible_ idea. He was about to be convicted for murder! She was out of damn her mind. _Listen to it again, look at the files again._ A small voice in the back of her head whispered. She frowned; it was the same voice that had told her to leave Julri. 

Sitting up, she exited out of her file, deciding not to save the title she’d type. Instead, she inserted the flash drive Gil had gifted her when he’d assigned her the article and scanned the file titles with her eyes. She frowned as she clicked on the one labelled “Personal Background”, she’d read through all of these documents so many times. She wasn’t sure what she was looking for exactly. Proof he didn’t do it despite what he said? Something to convince her he was still a good man despite what he’d done? Despite what his criminal record said? Despite the pictures of all the people he’d assaulted before Vincent? Her face soured. She didn’t like looking at those ones. She wondered if he’d hurt all of them under duress as well…if Vincent had been at his shoulder, the threat of ‘him or you’ hovering over his head.

Her eyes paused on Tora’s home address. It wasn’t that far, a half hour subway ride at most. She glanced at her door. She didn’t dare…did she? She nibbled her lip in indecision. She was being stupid. What would she even do once she got there? It wasn’t like he was there to let her in. What was she going to do? Pick the lock in broad daylight? She wanted to look around though; she wanted to know more about him. Wanted to see what he lived like. Wanted to know _the man_ ; not just the murderer. Breaking and entering into his apartment without his permission was such a breach of trust though!

She was still trying to talk herself out of it as she grabbed her coat, locked her own door and was headed down the stairs.

~ ~ ~

Outside his building, Poppy googled a locksmith on her phone and clicked on the first one that popped up. “L&K Locks.” A voice greeted her on the second ring.

“Hello, my name is Poppy, I’ve locked myself out of my apartment. Any chance you have someone available right now who could come let me in? Please? It’s freezing out.” She begged convincingly.

“Of course mam’ just give us the address and we’ll send one of our guys right over.” The voice assured before noting down the address she gave him. “Perfect, shouldn’t be more than a half hour.”

Poppy grinned, “oh thank you so much!” She told him in her sweetest voice, “you guys are life savers!” 

~ ~ ~

Arjun glanced the small woman beside him as he worked, “yeah, Ratna is in the second grade, she loves school, do you have any-”

“To be that young again eh? Bet she keeps you on your toes!” Poppy cut him off, doing her utmost to keep the man talking about himself until he finished. She didn’t want to lie any more than she already had.

He nodded, “oh she definitely does, asks the darndest questions too. Cute though, so where’s your spare?” He asked, glancing at her again.

Poppy kept her smile on her face and shivered before replying, “My boyfriend has it, I would have just called and asked him to let me in if he weren’t stuck out of town. I meant what I told your dispatcher, you guys are awesome. I would have been a popsicle if you hadn’t shown up when you did. It’s so cold!” She paused and cringed at the nickname Julri used to call her as she rubbed her gloved hands up and down her arms, “The temperature has really been dropping lately eh?” She asked, hoping her topic change wasn’t too obvious.

Arjun nodded as the lock finally clicked, “Well, freeze no more, you’re in.” He told her with a grin as his hand settled on the handle and cracked the door open for her before he turned to pack up his tools. “If you ever lock yourself out again, please give me a call,” he told her, handing her a receipt.

Poppy nodded and pulled out her credit card, paying on his portable handheld machine. “Honestly Arjun, thank you so much!” She told him, slipping by him and into the doorway as she put away her card. She waved goodbye to him as he walked away. She sighed in relief when he disappeared down the stairs. A grin spread over her features for a moment, calling him had been a calculated risk. Tora was locked up, he’d never know she was here. She could take as long as she wanted.

Pushing the door the rest of the way open, she stepped inside the apartment, closing and locked the door behind her. She frowned at number of locks on the door; she supposed a man in his line of work couldn’t be too careful though. A smile stretched across her mouth when she noticed the push lock though, at least she’d be able to lock the door again behind her. Pushing herself away from the door she glanced around the apartment, her smile faltering. It was almost as cold in here as it was outside.

Toeing off her shoes but keeping her coat on, she moved silently through the four room apartment, opening cubboards, and drawers. The man lived sparsely, as if he only planned to be there temporarily. There was no art on the walls, no personalization, no curtains. Coming back into the livingroom, she eyed the comforter on the floor beside the couch. The bed had looked untouched. He slept on the floor? She turned away from the comforter and tried to open the lockers by the front door when she heard it. It was feint but she definitely heard it. Looking around, she tried to locate where the sound was coming from. It was coming from… _below her_?

Dropping to her knees, Poppy crawled over Tora’s comforter, her hands digging into the material, trying to locate the ringing cellphone. She stopped, closing her eyes. Not the comforter, it was coming from the couch? She flung the cushions away. Nope. She listened closely. _Under the couch?_ She flattened herself onto her stomach and looked. Nope. A flashing light caught her eye, _what in the world?_ She thought as she reached towards it, her hand poking through the hole Tora had cut in the lining as she reached for the blinking cellphone. He had tucked the phone up on one of the wood edges of the frame. Pushing herself up into a seated position she bit her lip in indecision. She shouldn’t answer it. Someone would know she’d been here if she did. _Answer it!_ The small voice in her head cried.

Opening the small flip phone Poppy pressed it to her ear. “Tora? Tora? Oh thank god, I’ve been trying to call you for weeks. Don’t do this okay? Please don’t do this. You’ve already done enough!” A male voice cried out passionately.

Poppy was silent as she pressed the phone harder to her ear. “When we saw on the news you were arrested we uh, we felt awful man. When I heard ya were gonna stand trial I decided…I can’t let ya do that. Not when I can…I’m coming back. I know ya told me not to but I gotta. It’s the right thing to do. I can’t let ya take the fall for this. Not when ya didn’t shoot him, not after what ya did for...” The man on the other end of the phone sighed, “It ain’t right.” Poppy’s eyes widened incredulously. “Tora? Tora say something?” Pulling the phone away from her ear, she held it in her lap for a moment before disconnecting the call. She erased the call record and then tucked the phone back away where she’d found it.

From her place on the floor, she righted Tora’s couch cushions and then hefted herself up onto them. She glared at his guitar in the corner of the room, her face furious as her mind raced.

Tora had _lied_ to her.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy! Let me know what you think!
> 
> Song:  
> Whywhywhy by MisterWives (Poppy)

**_The Fourth Interview_ **

Tora chuckled, “wouldn’t you like to know little miss journalist.”

Poppy frowned at him, “yes I would. I told you what you wanted to know; now you tell me.” She demanded.

He arched a brow at her, “thought I was already sharing a secret, two will cost ya something extra.” He warned.

Her brows narrowed, “what will it cost me?” she asked, leaning in closer. He tapped the side of his cheek, a mischievous smirk on his face. Her eyes rounded, “you can’t be serious.”

He chuckled, “thugs don’t joke about extortion,” he told her seriously, his tone flat, the twinkle in his eye and the twitching of his lips giving away his fib.

She rolled her eyes, “fine. At the end of our visit. Not now.” She agreed reluctantly.

He nodded and pressed the record button, keeping his position, enjoying how close they were currently sitting. “So Vince calls up one of his crooked cops and gets him to leak the info on where the witness is being protected. Then he calls me up and tells me we’re runnin’ an errand. I pick him up and he’s monologuing like the idiot he is, _was_ , about how he can’t wait to get his hands on this guy and how cops are pigs, his usual bullshit.” Tora held Poppy’s gaze, forcing her to connect with him as he continued. “So we pull up at the address, get out of the car, take out the protection, make our way inside. I find the guy in a back bedroom. He’s just sitting there on the bed; waiting to die, had heard us come in. He asks me if I’m there to kill him, I tell him ‘yeah’ and before I can do it, Vince comes in. He doesn’t want it over quick like I was gonna do it. Nah, Vince wants the fucker to suffer, for the headache he’s caused him. Starts spouting off all this shit about how he’s gonna be begging for death by the time he’s done. The whole time he’s mauling the guy.”

Tora paused, staring hard at Poppy as he continued, “I ain’t good with that for three reasons, one: buddy was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, didn’t do anything to Vince to warrant that kind of pain. He was just trying to do what he thought was right by going to the police. Two: I’m not into torture, I’ve been through that shit myself at Vince’s hands and I don’t dole it out unless I feel I need to and Vince had made it clear on the way over he expected _me_ to do the dirty work. Three: We had just broken into a safe house and took out cops that were supposed to report in on a schedule. We didn’t have time for that shit and at the time I wasn’t looking to get caught.”

Poppy coughed lightly, the smoke from his cigarette finally beginning to affect her in such close proximity. Tora put it out immediately against the table and waited a moment for her to recover before she looked back up at him. Leaning in closer she murmured, “sorry, go on.”

He frowned and inhaled through his nose, smelling her perfume and not his cigarettes for the first time. His shoulders relaxed as he locked eyes with her again, “So when he stops and tells me to finish what he’s started, I tell him no and I’m just gonna shoot the guy. That pisses Vince right off, tells me he’s had enough of my insubordination and if I don’t watch my mouth he’s gonna shoot me too once he’s done with buddy on the bed. I tell him he can do whatever the fuck he wants but I’m leaving. He clocks me in the back of the head, we scuffle a little. Then he gets off me, tells me to know my fuckin’ place and tells me to shoot him like I wanted to. I think the fist fight gave him a minute to think about how fuckin’ stupid he was being. We were there to get a fuckin’ job done, in and out ya know?” He explained.

Poppy nodded slightly, unsure if it was out of agreement or if she was just following his logic, Tora continued. “So Vince ordered me to shoot him and I just thought, nah. Fuck that. This guy didn’t deserved to die for Vince’s fuck up; and I knew in that moment this wouldn’t be the last innocent person he’d order me to kill. That didn’t fit with what I was good doing anymore.”

He paused again and searched her eyes, certain she was still with him, hanging off his every word, he said clearly, “So I shot him instead, I was done taking orders, Vince was the one that deserved to die; all he did was cause pain and harm to whatever he touched.”

Poppy gazed at him for a long moment, processing what he’d said, “What? I don’t get it. That’s _it_?” She scowled at him, feeling like she was being taken for a ride. “Why are you admitting this to me now when you wouldn’t admit guilt to the police? What was with all the ‘supposedlys’ and, and ‘apparentlys’? Why would you plead _not guilty_ if you did it?” She demanded.

Tora pressed the pause button on her recorder and leaned in closer, less than a foot between them now. “I was trying to protect the witness, give him time to disappear, keep the rest of Balthuman focused on me, keep their anger on _me_ for what had happened to Vince. Have them forget all about who was actually responsible for putting Vince and I there that night.” He explained calmly, “Figured I could keep the police busy too, have them focus on interrogating me instead of out searching for a witness that didn’t matter anymore. No need for him when Vince was dead. Dead men don’t stand trial.” He explained. “If I just admitted guilt it’d be over too soon. Unlike the movies sweetheart, it takes time to disappear.” He teased her lightheartedly, his tone on the last sentence a stark contrast from the rest of his explanation. 

Poppy frowned at him, “couldn’t he get away without you turning yourself in?” she asked, annoyed by his self-sacrifice. After what he’d told her he’d been through at the hands of Vincent Balthuman he deserved to enjoy life free of his tormentor. Not caged. Again. This must be just another nightmare for him.

Tora shook his head, “Nah. Then we’d both be dead. Thug justice. They’d just finish the job Vince and I started and then exact revenge on me. Being locked in a caged sounded better to me than being dead in a gutter taken out by my own guys. Fuck that.” He told her solemnly.

Poppy stared at him for a long moment, her heart breaking. He was right. Sometimes people did bad things because they didn’t have a choice. Hurt the witness or hurt Vince. Tie up the legal system, waste time and money on a farce of a trial or die in a gutter. He was just doing what he thought was the lesser of two evils. What he thought was right. “I don’t blame you.” She murmured.

Tora smiled at her and turned the tape back on, pausing for a moment before uttering, “Why didn’t I just admit it? Sometimes if you’re convicted for murder ya get the death penalty. Didn’t feel like rushing to my death.” He teased. “I killed Vince ‘cause I felt like it. Didn’t really like my odds in court if I just came out and admitted it from the start. As for why I’m tellin’ ya now.” He shrugged and smiled at her, “I’m tired. I’m sick of lying. I’m ready for this shit to be over.” He told her with a wink.

Poppy nodded, “thanks for talking to me.” She said monotonely before shutting off the tape. “People are going to question that explanation. It’s not a very good one.” She told him, a brow arched.

Tora shrugged, “people who know how our system works won’t. They’ll know it was death by Balthuman or death by rot. Besides, the only reason I agreed to talk to you was to give my brother the ‘why’. He’s pissed about what I did, can’t wrap his head around it. He’ll understand now.” He explained, finally leaning away from her.

Poppy nodded as she packed her bag, “you still haven’t told me who your brother is.” She pointed out.

Tora smirked, “one secret at a time Bobby, and you still haven’t paid me for the last secret I agreed to tell ya.” He teased as he stood and shoved the unopened carton, lighter and what was left of the opened carton of cigarettes back towards her.

Poppy stuffed those in her bag and stood as well, stepping towards him. He smiled down at her for a moment, his eyes daring her to pay up. She raised her hands hesitantly and bit her lip, her cheeks blushing as an idea hit her. Something to make up for referring to the cigarettes as ‘payment’, something to convince him once and for all she wasn’t scared of him and thought him a good man. He taped his cheek as she fisted her hands in the collar of his jumpsuit, tugging him down towards her as she stepped into his space.

Tora’s eyes widened in surprise, his hands falling to her hips as she pressed her mouth, not against his cheek, but to his lips. Recovering, he closed his eyes and pulled her closer; dipping his head so he could deepen the kiss, close his mouth more firmly over hers, his hands tightening on the little woman in his arms. It was over a moment later when he heard Rod’s footsteps slamming towards them. Opening his eyes he ripped his mouth away from hers and dipped it to her ear. “Someone that puts others first.” He told her as Rod’s hand tugged on his arm just above the elbow.

“Break it up!” He barked.

Poppy stared, dumbfounded as Rod dragged a willing Tora back towards his cell. He smirked at her over his shoulder before disappearing out of sight.

Twenty minutes later Poppy sat in her car shivering as she waited for the vehicle to warm up. She pressed the tips of her fingers to her mouth; the only part of her she felt was still warm, Tora’s words echoing in her head. _Someone that puts others first,_ that’s what he saw when he looked in the mirror. Not a killer. Not a thug. A good man. A man trying to do right. The witness might not have deserved to die but Tora didn’t deserve to rot behind bars for trying to protect him. She sighed, why was life so unfair?

**_Six Days after the Fourth Interview_ **

Poppy was still angry as she pulled open the door to the posh apartment building she’d visited the first day she’d met Tora. She’d been going in circles for days. First she’d been tempted to go back and rip Tora apart. Demand the truth, then she’d remembered the interview with Lane and the other detective. _Nine hours._ Nine hours and he hadn’t said a god damn word. No, she wouldn’t get anywhere if she went back to the prison without some kind of proof he hadn’t shot Vincent; something to compel him to tell her the truth. So she’d poured over the folders she had on him. That had given her nothing. She thought about going back to his apartment, forcing open the lockers he kept beside his couch and then thought better of that too. He’d hidden his phone so carefully; there was no way he’d leave incriminating evidence in such an obvious spot.

That had left her with only one option to turn to: Noyouko. He mattered enough to Tora that the man had agreed to meet with her just so that she could deliver a message to him. She was going to meet him this time, and she wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

“Oh not you again, go away groupy,” the receptionist told her disgustedly as he looked up at her from his laptop.

Poppy dawned her best bitch face, “no you listen here, I’m not screwing around and I’m not a goddamn groupy. Tora sent me with another message for Noyouko. No paper this time. For his ears only. Tell me which apartment is his or I swear to god I will knock on every damn door from here to the penthouse.” She spat, her eyes carrying an obvious challenge. 

The receptionist eyed her carefully, trying to assess whether or not she was bluffing. The man who had claimed to be Tora’s other messenger had come through not even five minutes ago. Shit must be going down. Quincey had always advised him that Tora was the exception to every single rule he’d ever given him. “Okay. Penthouse. I’ll buzz to let him know you’re coming.” He said, his inflection more a question than a statement.

“Bother him and I’ll let him _and Tora_ know you gave me such a hard time last time,” Poppy threatened as she moved towards the elevator, her finger jabbing the button for the penthouse. The receptionist swallowed thickly as the sliding doors closed on her.

~ ~ ~

“I’m not normally a big fan of red unless it’s wine but if you don’t tell me who the hell you are in the next thirty seconds _blood red_ will be the new accent colour in this apartment. Understand?” Quincey threatened as he sneered at the skinny man with the goatee standing four feet from his couch. He was furious. He’d just finished having his rug cleaned after the wine. Getting this man’s blood out of his carpet was going to cost him an arm and a leg.

Gyu sighed, annoyed to have another gun in his face. Figures a ‘friend’ of Tora’s would greet him the same way Tora had. “I’m Ronzo,” he lied, using the new name Tora had given him. “I’m here because I need your help.” He explained, as a knock came at the door.

Quincey glanced behind him at the unlocked door before locking eyes with Gyu. “Open it,” he spat, circling away from Gyu, tucking himself close to his kitchen cabinet, hidden from sight.

Gyu nodded and went to the door, pulling it open as Quincey trained the gun on his head. “Can I help you?” he asked the young woman before him.

Poppy nodded, “yes. You have to tell me what the note Tora sent you said. The one I delivered.” She told him brusquely.

Quincey’s eyes rounded in recognition at the sound of Poppy’s voice. “Invite her in,” he whispered quietly to Gyu.

Gyu nodded, more for Quincey than for Poppy, “come in,” he told her, gesturing towards the couch behind him.

Poppy brushed past him, pulling her bag from her shoulder as she toed off her shoes and marched towards the couch. She was two feet from it when she turned around, her instincts screaming at her that she’d just made a terrible mistake.

“Sit down. Both of you.” Quincey ordered coldly.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love that moment in a mystery when you think you know something and then realize you still have no clue. Let me know what you think! Enjoy! ♥ There may not be an update on this one tomorrow as I'm finishing up a request and may post that instead.
> 
> Song:  
> Look Me in The Eyes by The Darcys

**_Later That Afternoon_ **

The small boy counted the footsteps as they came up the stairs, his heart thundering in time with them. _Go away, go away, go away!_ He whispered to himself over and over again as he squeezed his eyes closed. The footsteps were coming for him, he knew they were. He hugged his stuffed dinosaur tighter to him as he pressed himself further under the bed. He held his breath when the door to his bedroom creaked open. There was a moment of silence and then “I found ya little runt!” a deep voice boomed. The boy cried out when the hand came snaking out of the darkness to wrap around his ankle and drag him out from under the bed. Tora fought back, kicking and screaming. “Quit squirming brat. Vince wants ya downstairs,” Martin’s gravel voice grated upon every fear Tora had.

He dragged his feet as Martin pulled him down first one flight and then another. Across the basement, then through to the room he and Quincey weren’t allowed in. There was a man tied to a chair, a pillow case over his head while Vincent leaned against the far wall with a twisted smile on his face. “He give you any trouble?” Vincent sneered.

Martin shrugged, “Not for long, don’t worry boss. If he’s not broken yet, he’ll soon be.” He said, pressing a gun into the young boy’s hands.

Vincent smirked and wandered closer to Tora, the movement made the boy shudder. The gun was small but felt large and unbearably heavy in his hands. Then he heard it, a click, the safety of another gun being turned off. He turned his head to the side to see cold blue eyes staring down at him around the butt of the gun Vince had pressed between his eyes.

Tora cried then, wailed. Terrified. “Him,” Vince said, gesturing with his chin at the man with the bag over his head, “or you.” Vince warned, pressing the gun a little harder against his head.

Martin pulled the pillow case off the man’s head and as the man’s gaze locked with Tora’s the boy felt like he was being propelled towards something awful. Something he had no option in. No choice. Something that would change his life forever. He looked over and up at Vince, the gun now at Tora’s temple. “Please?” he pleaded, tears streaming down his cheeks. 

~ ~ ~

The door of his cell clanged open as Tora startled awake and sat up in his bed, shaking off the nightmare. “Warden wants to see you,” Rod explained as Tora stood. Tora blinked at him and followed, he figured it was about time. Quincey had left him alone for too long. He sighed and steeled himself as he sat down in the chair opposite the warden’s desk. The phone felt cold in his hand as Rod handed it to him. He wasn’t sure he was ready to do this again; he pressed the phone to his ear and listened as the warden dialed.

Quincey sat in the chair opposite Gyu, his gun on the coffee table between them. Poppy sat beside Gyu, stone still, a pensive look on her face. She and Gyu flinched when Quincey’s phone rang. He put it on speaker for them. “Hey booboo, long time no talk,” he drawled, his tone casual despite the fury on his face. The ensuing silence just made him angrier. “You know what really pisses me off Tora? The fact you seem to be willing to talk to everyone but me. Some kind of brother you are.” Quincey quipped snarkly. 

Poppy gasped, _Noyouko_ was Tora’s brother? How? They didn’t look anything alike? Actually, he looked familiar, but not because he looked like Tora. No, Noyouko looked like…like…the pieces fell into place for her as she shook her head in disbelief. _Balthuman_.

Tora shut his eyes against Quincey’s rage and tried to relax back into his chair, certain Quincey had found out about his visits with Poppy through the Warden. “Since you won’t talk to me, I decided to have a little soiree with your friends. Ronzo and Poppy are here, say hi to Tora guys.” Quincey drawled.

“What?” Tora spat, sitting up straight in his chair now, his eyes hard.

Quincey scowled, “oh, so you can still speak. Imagine that.” He spat right back.

“I’m not fucking around Quince,” Tora snarled, his free hand gripping the chair arm so tightly his knuckles were turning white. Poppy was one thing, Ronzo was another. He should have been out of the country by now.

“Neither am I!” Quincey screeched right back at him, “I have never been so angry at you in my life TORA!”

Gyu and Poppy exchanged glances, Poppy’s guess confirmed. Noyouko was in fact, Quincey Balthuman. Vincent Balthuman’s only son and the heir to the extensive Balthuman organization. “I didn’t want you messed up in this,” Tora attempted to appease his brother, his eyes on the fascinated warden and guard in the room. He knew he needed to watch his words carefully.

Quincey sneered down at the phone in disgust, “No, you just wanted to abandon me. Fuck you Tora. You’re coming home whether you like it or not. Ronzo told us everything. I know you didn’t kill Dad. Ronzo’s going to stand trial. Not you. Cordy will defend him and he’ll get off on self-defence. Then we’ll send him away. Keep him safe from people like Martin, and then you can come home.” Quincey explained, still angry.

Tora’s brows rose in surprise at that, he wondered exactly _what version of the truth_ Ronzo had spun for his brother. “That so?” Tora muttered as he glared at the other two men in the room, the predatory look in his eyes warning them to mind their own fucking business. “Tell the warden to give us some privacy.” Tora barked before holding the phone out to the warden.

The man took it, “Sir I can’t just leave an inmate alone in my office – yes, I – are you threatening my family?” The warden asked incredulously, “fine, fine, we’re leaving.” He agreed, handing Tora back the phone before dragging Rod out of the room with him, closing the door behind them firmly.

Satisfied he was alone, Tora pressed the phone to his ear, “Ronzo,” he barked.

Gyu sat up straight as he was addressed, “Yeah Tora,” he muttered, leaning in towards the phone.

Tora paced the length of floor the cord of the desk phone would allow. “Why the fuck are you back!” he growled.

Gyu sighed as he buckled under the weight of Quincey and Poppy’s stares, “I’ve been trying to reach you for weeks. When I saw on the news that you had turned yourself in, that you were taking the fall for this, I couldn’t stand by and do nothing. It’s not right. Not when I knew I could return the favour and… _I’m the one that killed him. Not you_.” He explained.

Tora clenched his jaw, his lips pressed firmly together; he had no idea how to respond to that. He decided not to, Gyu was a grown man, he could do whatever the fuck he wanted. “Poppy, sweetheart? Ya there?” He asked, hoping she wasn’t too mad at him.

“I’m here Tora,” she replied, folding her arms over her chest as she leaned back into the couch. She’d had just about enough of lying men.

He sighed, he could hear the annoyance in her tone, “come back and visit me sweetheart. So I can apologize for lyin’ in person?” He asked hopefully.

Poppy scoffed, “Why the hell should I? Just apologize now.” Why hadn’t he told her the truth when the recorder was off? Her eyes welled with tears. Why had he lied to her when she’d been nothing but honest with him? He’d told her he was protecting Ronzo. Why not just tell her he was actually innocent? Then she wouldn’t have had to been conflicted over her feelings for him at all!

Tora’s eyes softened as he stared at the high backed chair on the opposite side of the desk, trying to conjure her image in it. “Please Bobby, I’m sorry okay. I want to see you again.” He paused for a moment, trying to decide if his next words would sway her or just piss her off more. He did it anyways, “…touch ya again. Please, I can’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout ya.” He pleaded, “About our-”

Poppy flushed deeply as her eyes rounded at his words, her head whipped back and forth between the two men beside her. Gyu was smiling and staring off into the corner of the room as Quincey stared directly at her, an amused smirk on his face. “Fine, fine I’ll come see you, just stop, stop talking about that!” Poppy screeched.

Tora smiled, pleased his gamble had paid off, “Quince, I’m sorry, really.” His apology was heartfelt, tender. “I wasn’t tryin’ to pick Ronzo over ya. I don’t want ya to feel that way. I knew it would hurt ya, especially my silence but ya know I can’t lie to ya and I was trying to do what I thought was right. I never set out to hurt ya or make ya feel abandoned.” He sighed and listened expectantly. When Quincey didn’t reply he sighed, knowing what he’d have to say. “You’re my best friend Quince. Forgive me?”

“Say it Tora. Say it and I’ll forgive you.” Quincey urged, stone faced despite the obvious discomfort on Tora’s end of the line.

“Take me off speaker?” Tora begged.

“No. This is the least you can do after all the sleepless nights and worry you’ve put me through.” Quincey told him in annoyance.

Tora sighed in defeat, “fine. I love you Quincey. I’m sorry okay. I won’t abandon ya again. I promise.”

Quincey nodded, “I love you too. I’m sending you Cordy. We’ll have you out of that awful prison in no time.” He reassured, still angry but rather relieved. 

**_A Few Days After Quincey Bought The Globe and Narin_ **

“Hey Gil, Erdene said you wanted to see me?” Poppy inquired, poking her head into her boss’ office.

Gil smiled warmly at her and gestured for her to take the seat opposite him. “Hey Pops, yeah I did, I have a new assignment for ya.” He told her cheerily, watching as she lowered herself into her seat, her eyes fixed on him raptly, “I want you to cover the murder of Vincent Balthuman.”

Poppy gaped at him, “me? Why? You can’t be serious.” She murmured.

He nodded happily at her, “course I’m serious! Your work is great!” He told her.

She frowned at him, “you know something Gil, I know I look young and naïve but please don’t treat me like you think I’m stupid. It’s insulting.” 

He sighed, losing his smile. “Listen, after the bankruptcy scare and the ensuing layoffs, I don’t have that many crime journalists at my disposal. I called Joel but he won’t take my calls. I called Lamija but she’s already landed a job at another paper. I called Yelena, Howard and Monica. None of them will talk to me.” He lied smoothly, in reality, he had called them, but not about this, he hadn’t called a soul about this story other than Q.B Noyouko, the famous author that had saved his paper. “So I picked you out of the people I got left because I knew you’d want a shot at a story like this.”

Poppy stared at him, “are you serious?” she breathed, still shocked he would assign her such a big story.

Gil nodded, pissed about the restrictions Noyouko had placed on him. Someone had to write the story, do all the research, and spend all the time on this; only for Q.B to be the only soul to read it. It was a waste of what little staff he had left. Of course he was assigning it to his most junior employee. “Oh yeah, I feel good about this, here,” he told her, passing her a sealed envelope a man by the name of ‘Smithy’ had dropped off earlier that morning. “This is for you, to help with your research.” He told her. He hadn’t bothered to open it. Frankly he could care less what was inside if he couldn’t publish the article she’d produce for him.

She tore it open, shaking out a small black flash drive into her hand. She eyed it carefully, “Thank you for trusting me with this.” She told him, “I won’t let you down.”

He smiled at her, “I can’t wait to read it.” He lied, knowing he never would. He was a go between, nothing more. He was to forward anything Poppy shared with him. That was it.

Poppy pushed herself to her feet, extremely pleased as she exited the office.

~ ~ ~

Plugging the drive into her laptop at home, Poppy began exploring the files. All of them seemed to be on ‘Tora Yeke’ a mafia enforcer for the Balthuman Organization with a rather intimidating nickname. She poured over the files, reading every bit of information within, his personal information, his criminal history, pictures of some of his unfortunate victims. She took note that most of them were also criminals. Interesting. She clicked on the file titled ‘interrogation’, it was a massive file.

A grainy black and white video flashed onto her screen and began playing, Tora’s hair was down, hanging in his face as he sat with his arms crossed, his shoulders set. “Mind if I take a piss before we start?” He asked. He disappeared off camera. The female detective followed after a few moments. Both of them returned a few minutes later. She watched at the two detectives grilled him, asking him every question under the sun. She watched as they played good cop bad cop. As they threatened him, as they used every trick at their disposal but still he didn’t cave, didn’t ask for a lawyer. _He didn’t say a word_.

**_The Fifth Visit_ **

Poppy knocked on Tora’s apartment door softly as she shifted nervously from foot to foot. It was freezing out. “Hey,” he greeted her as he opened the door to welcome her in. “Thanks for agreeing to come.”

She nodded and toed off her shoes before unzipping her coat. It was just as cold and grey in here as she remembered. “Well, it wasn’t as much effort as going all the way to the prison.” She told him dejectedly, still annoyed by Quincey’s revelation to her.

Tora smirked at her and took her coat as she shrugged it off her shoulders, “well, I’m glad I’m worth the effort, maybe a little more than your plants?” He asked hopefully.

Poppy just glared at him before taking a seat on the far end of his couch. Reaching towards the floor, she grabbed his comforter and pulled it up over herself, her back leaning on the arm rest as he took a seat on the opposite end. “I’ll let you know by the end of our visit.” She warned. He just smiled and nodded as he slung his arm over the back of the couch, turning his body to face hers. “How’s it feel to be home?” she asked.

He shrugged, “fine I guess, still feel imprisoned though,” he told her meaningfully as he glanced down at the gps tracker cuffed to his ankle.

Poppy frowned, Quincey’s money had allowed Tora to make bail and Cordy had managed to get him off on the murder and attempted murder charges but he was still facing ‘accessory to murder’ and ‘obstruction of justice’ by covering up what had happened and trying to take the fall for Gyu. He was officially on house arrest until after his trial was over. “I can imagine.” She murmured.

He gazed at her sadly, “I’m sorry ya didn’t get what ya wanted.” He offered consolingly.

She waved off his concern, “don’t be silly. Too many people are locked up for ridiculous reasons. Seeing justice finally served is better than writing the story of the century.” She reassured him.

He smirked at her, not buying her bullshit by a long shot. “Well, ya might not get your story but I am _out_. There’s no Rod here this time to break us up.” He pointed out hopefully, “I’d be more than willing to try to make it up to ya.” He finished, his hand snaking under the blanket towards her legs. The glare she gave him had his hand retracting faster than if she’d tried to bite him. “Or not. Not’s good too.” He amended.

“ _Not_ is spectacular,” she growled.

Both his brows shot up at the anger in her tone, “sorry for reading the room wrong Poppylan, I thought after the kiss ya planted on me at our last visit that ya were into me.” He explained; disappointment evident in his tone.

Poppy rolled her eyes, of course she was into him. She was just mad that he was still lying to her. That Ronzo had lied too, that Quincey had lied, that Gil had lied, that Julri had lied. She was so sick of men lying to her! “Maybe if you were honest I wouldn’t be so cold.” She spat.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy. You'll have your climax tomorrow, then you'll finally know what happened to Vince. :P Anyways, let me know what you think! Enjoy! ♥
> 
> (Check out the first song, it inspired the whole fic. :P)
> 
> Songs:  
> Uh-oh by Jeremy Fisher & Serena Ryder   
> My Way by Tom Walker

**_Six Days After the Fourth Interview_ **

Poppy had had many disquieting experiences in her life. She’d been with her father when he had passed. She’d kissed a murderer. Hell she’d even been followed by some wayward looking men her first week after moving to Narin City. She had never had a gun pointed at her though. It was uncomfortable to say the least. “Sit down. Both of you.” Quincey ordered. She did as she was told, taking up residence on the sofa next to the man who had greeted her at the door.

The blonde man made his way over to the seat across from them, his gun still at the ready. “Now tell me why you’re here. You go first Poppy.” He told her firmly.

Poppy eyed him nervously before opening her mouth, deciding that truth was her best option, “I delivered a message for a man named Noyouko a few weeks ago. It was written by Tora Yeke. I recently discovered some information that has given me reason to believe he didn’t kill Vincent Balthuman.” Gyu’s eyes rounded in surprise at the woman next to him. What the hell did she know? Who had given her- “I came here to find out what he wrote Noyouko in the hopes that it would contain evidence of his innocence.” She explained.

Quincey frowned, “that message is between he and I, it contained no such information.” He spat. “Now you.” He ordered Gyu tersely, “speak.”

Gyu nodded, “The night Vincent died, Tora had been dispatched to kill me but he didn’t. Tora saved my life. I came to return the favour. I can’t live with myself knowing a man like that is behind bars.” He explained.

Poppy cocked her head to the side in confusion. What did the ginger man mean by ‘a man like that?’ Tora had done horrid things. Even if he hadn’t killed Vincent he’d been in that safe house that night to murder the man beside her. Quincey’s eyes rounded in delighted shock, “You were there that night?” he inquired happily.

The other man nodded, “yeah. Had a front row seat.”

Quincey smiled as Poppy turned her whole body to face Gyu, “Tell me what happened.” Quincey breathed.

Gyu eyed the gun in Quincey’s hand meaningfully, “put that thing down and I will.” He offered.

Quincey smirked, “Tell me, and if I’m satisfied with what I hear, I’ll set it down.” He countered.

Gyu sighed and opened his mouth, “I was in the back bedroom of the safe house when I heard movement in another part of the house. A minute later Tora slinked into the room and aimed a gun at me. He didn’t shoot though; instead he just stared at me, like he was trying to make up his mind about something. Then Vince barrelled in and clocked me in the face, screaming about how much hassle I’d caused him and how stupid I was for thinking I could stand up to someone like him. In all honesty, I was having some trouble focusing on what he was saying considering the pain he was inflicting.” Gyu shuddered, the memory anything but comfortable for him.

Poppy nodded, following along with the story Tora had already told her. “Anyways, Tora pulls him off of me at some point and tells him to stop it. That he’s hurt me enough. Vince says he’s just getting started and that Tora can take over. Tora refuses, says he’s not doing anything of the sort and he’s not gonna let Vince continue either. That if Vincent wants to hurt me it’ll be over his dead body. Vince tells him that can easily be arranged. Then Vincent hits him in the face.” Gyu explained.

Poppy frowned, that didn’t line up. Tora had told her Vince had hit him in the back of the head. “Tora drops his gun and it goes skittering across the floor as he and Vincent get into it. At one point Vince pins Tora, he’s furious cause he’s trying to wail on him but Tora’s blocking every blow he tries to land. So I figure I can’t just sit there, I gotta help him. So I crawl off the bed and grab the gun. I shoot Vincent. Tora shoves him off. I can tell he’s real conflicted over the whole thing but he just stares at me. Like he can’t believe I helped him.” Gyu paused, his eyes sad and glassy, remembering the moment, the look in Tora’s eyes as Vince died. “The rest is a bit of blur. He put me in his car, drove me to the train station, handed me a bunch of cash and told me my new name was Ronzo. Told me to get out of the country and he’d take care of everything. That I didn’t need to worry about anyone coming after me for revenge. That he’d make it all go away for me. Told me not to call the police, even if I got scared because the police were the ones that had given me up to Vince. He handed me this and then took off.” He said, pulling the note from his pocket before handing it over to Quincey.

Quincey gazed down at it, a pinched look on his face. It was Tora’s hand writing alright. All it said was _Noyouko_ , his address and the words, ‘ _top floor_ ’ on it. He set his gun down on the table and leaned back in his chair in defeat. Of course Tora had played ‘hero’, he tried his best not to take it personally, knowing what his father could be like. In truth, Vincent’s death had upset him less than Tora’s abandonment. Tora’s silence. He grieved his father, but not nearly as much as he had grieved the loss of Tora’s friendship. Gyu’s note was proof enough that Tora still trusted him, cared for him.

He sighed and stared at the man and the woman opposite him, ignoring the confused constipated look on Poppy’s face as he pulled out his cellphone and dialed the prison. It was time he and Tora had a little chat again.

It took everything in Poppy not to turn and shake Ronzo, scream at him to tell her the truth, to stop lying the way Tora had. After listening to his voice carefully, she was certain Ronzo was the man on the other end of the phone call she’d accepted on Tora’s behalf a few days prior. Ronzo had said ‘we’ many times. Even if he _had been_ the one to shoot Vincent, which she doubted right now, there were too many holes in his story; there had been someone else in that room that night. She was certain of it. Which meant both Gyu and Tora’s stories were bullshit.

As a result, Poppy fumed as she listened to Quincey inform the warden to call him back once he had Tora on the line. When he hung up she asked a question that had been nagging at her. “How the hell do you know who I am?” she demanded the blonde man who had known her name without asking it first.

Quincey grinned at her, “your boss. I own the Globe and Narin.” He informed her, a soft smile on his lips.

She glared at him, “you’re the one that had me look into Tora? This case?” She demanded.

He glared right back, “hardly, I was furious when Gil told me he’d put a no one on the assignment, I suppose that’s what I get for forbidding him from publishing though.” He sighed.

Poppy gawked at him, a no one? Forbid Gil from publishing? “What the hell are you talking about?” she whispered.

Quincey rolled his eyes and threw himself back in his chair, “You think I’m about to let a major newspaper air Tora’s dirty laundry? Not a chance. The man won’t talk to me so I had to get dramatic. You dear, succeeded where I failed, got him to open up and I thank you for that, I’m sure it wasn’t easy. I was so hopeful listening to your tapes, until he started _lying_. That just pissed me off. I spent so much money and went to so much hassle only for him to feed you a crock of _shite_. Really got my panties in a knot.” He explained, rolling his hand on his wrist in annoyance. 

Poppy’s eyes widened in horror, Gil had been forwarding her tapes? Noyouko had known Tora was lying? How? “How? How did you know he was lying?” She demanded.

Quincey smirked at her, “Tora is a shit liar, and he always pauses before he spews falsities. Truth is easy for him, he just blurts it out. He has to stop and think about lies, force them out of his mouth. That’s why he’s so quiet usually. He doesn’t like to lie but as you already know, there’s not a whole lot he can say about himself without getting himself into trouble. He paused for almost an entire fifteen seconds before he told you he shot big boss Balthuman. That in itself was evidence enough for me his story was bull.” He explained, amused by the anger he read in the young woman’s eyes. What did she expect though? Tora was _his brother_ , to her; he was just an inmate she’d interviewed. “Don’t be upset honey; Tora’s always been good with the ladies.” He added, trying to console her. From the look on her face after the words left his mouth though, he imagined his brother may have broken another heart.

**_The Fifth Visit_ **

“Maybe if you were honest I wouldn’t be so cold.” Poppy spat.

Tora eyed her closely from his end of the couch, “I’ve been honest with you Poppy. The only words I ever said to you that were a lie were ‘I shot Vince’.” He told her truthfully.

“Lies. You told me you killed him. You said, and I quote, ‘I killed him.’ Tell me what really happened that night! It’s been driving me insane. I know Gyu is lying too. You’re both liars.” She accused icily.

Tora narrowed his brows at her, “I never lied to you about anything other than shooting Vince and what is it exactly that you think Gyu is lying about?” he asked, his voice deadly calm.

She glared at him, “I know there was someone else in the room that night Tora. Don’t play dumb with me.” She spat at him, her eyes cold.

Tora frowned, “Who the fuck told you that?” he demanded, his mind immediately jumping to Lane.

Poppy pushed herself up, sitting ramrod straight now, his comforter falling to settle around her hips. “Gyu did, when he called you on the phone hidden under this couch. He said ‘we’ felt awful when ‘we’ saw you were arrested. Who the hell is ‘we’ Tora?” She demanded.

He scowled at her, “I won’t lie to ya but I’m not tellin’ ya that Poppy.” He informed her sternly. Forcefully. “Now tell me how the fuck ya could possibly know about that phone.” He commanded.

She held his glare for long moment, too angry to be ashamed, she pressed on, “you’re not the only criminal in this room Tora. This isn’t the first time I’ve been here. I broke in, had a little look around. I was snooping when Gyu called. Took me a while to find the phone. You sir are a master of hiding places. I found it though. I just picked up the call. Didn’t say a word. Gyu thought I was you and he went on a tangent about how he, ‘they’ couldn’t let you take the fall when you hadn’t killed Vincent.” She snapped.

Tora’s brows furrowed even further together, choosing to ignore her incorrect word choice. “You broke in here? Snooped? Thought ya were a good girl. Honest.” He told her disappointedly, deeply annoyed by her admission.

Poppy leaned forwards, her hands on her knees as she sat cross legged and shouted at him, tears in her eyes, Quincey’s hurtful words about Tora being good with the ladies at the forefront of her mind. Tora had lied to her, manipulated her just like Julri, “And I thought you were honest! A good man despite what you’ve done and been through, I never would have kissed you if-”

He leaned forward and closed the distance between them, threading his fingers through her hair before slamming his mouth against hers. He wouldn’t let her say something awful about him. Not after she’d been so understanding. Not after she’d believed in him. He’d do anything to prevent her from seeing him like everyone else did. She tried to pull away but he held her there. She was furious with him and decided to show him, kissing him back with all the anger she held pent up inside. She bit his lip hard as he ripped his mouth away from hers a moment later, panting. “I’ll tell ya but don’t ya dare regret that kiss. Or the one before, or any of the nice shit ya believe about me, and ya can’t tell another livin’ soul but I trust ya woman, despite the fact ya broke in here, and I do wanna be honest with ya. Even if it means breakin’ a promise to someone else.” He told her dejectedly, her face still cupped in his hands.

Poppy brought her hands to his wrists and pushed his palms away from her cheeks. “Then tell me Tora.”

He looked at her broken heartedly, “can I hold ya?” he asked pleadingly, “please?” He wasn’t sure he could look her in the eyes for this one. Wasn’t sure he’d be able to relive it without anchoring himself with something and he didn’t have any cigarettes.

She stared at him for a long moment, before her gaze dropped to his hands. He was wearing her hair tie on his wrist. He still had it? She glanced back up at his face. She did mean something to him didn’t she? She wanted desperately to believe that; that their relationship was more than just a series of interviews. Quincey had said he paused when he lied; she didn’t need to look him in the eyes to tell if he was being deceitful again. She nodded and crawled over to him, settling herself between his legs as she leaned back into his chest and tugged the comforter over both of them. She forced herself not to sigh in contentment when his arms circled her and he squeezed her tightly against him. He was warm, wonderfully warm. Being with him like this had her feeling warm for the first time in weeks.

Tora closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of the woman in his arms, the smell of her shampoo and perfume relaxing him, just like it had the first time. His whole body calmed as she snuggled against him. It would be good to finally get that night off his chest. Have someone forgive him for it. Tell him they understood and what he’d done was justified. That they saw his logic, understood why he’d done things his way. He inhaled softly and began, “you’re right, there were five people in that room that night. Not three.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally here! So excited to read what you think! Enjoy! ♥   
> The conclusion will be posted tomorrow!
> 
> Songs:  
> Man in the Mirror by Michael Jackson  
> Tell Me Why by Three Days Grace

**_The Night of Vincent’s Murder_ **

“Stupid motherfuckin’ pigs. Just wait till I get my hands…” Vincent growled before trailing off, turning his sights on the younger man sitting next to him in the Subaru. “No.” He corrected, his face morphing from a demonic scowl into something borderline pleasant, “not my hands.” Vince grinned wickedly, the expression making Tora suppress a shiver of unease. “Your hands.” The older man amended, clapping Tora on the shoulder.

The young man fought off the urge to shudder again and brush the older man’s hand away. Instead he sat stone still, keeping his breathing even, eyes on the road, hoping desperately for the moment when Vince would remove his hand from his body. When it didn’t come, Vincent’s eyes just piercing into his own, Tora reached into the pocket of his hoodie with his free hand for his cigarettes. He lit one, taking a long drag. The nicotine helping him feel a little more at ease despite the weight of his tormentor’s hand upon him.

Vincent chuckled to himself and pat the young man’s shoulder. “You won’t let me down son, will you?” he asked, a serene smile on his lips. Tora rolled his eyes up towards the roof of the car, willing patience. “Of course you won’t,” Vince finished cheerily as he finally took his hand back.

Tora sighed in relief, “let’s just get this over with. Quincey wants me to swing by later.” He mumbled around his cigarette.

The older man’s face contorted in contempt, “more of his pervy bullshit? When the hell is he going to give that shit up? I swear, if he wasn’t my only son…” he growled.

Closing his eyes, Tora called upon his considerable patience and kept his mouth shut. Quincey hadn’t said anything about beta reading for him tonight. He’d said he wanted to talk to him about Cordy. Apparently Quincey wasn’t satisfied with just being her fuckboy anymore. He wanted a relationship, a real one, and wanted to practice what to say to convince her with him. Tora snorted, a small smirk crossing his face, still deeply amused by the request. He wasn’t sure what good he was going to be for Quincey. Wasn’t like he had any experience in that department, fuckboy was all _he’d_ ever been. Well, to women anyways.

Vince smiled at Tora affectionately, mistaking the man’s amusement for commiseration. “I shouldn’t be whining to you about him. He’s even more of a pain in the ass for you than he is for me.” He joked.

Tora’s brows narrowed in frustration as he took a heavy drag of his cigarette. Fuck Vincent. Sometimes he wondered how such a caring guy like Quincey had been spawned from the evil incarnate sitting beside him. He wanted desperately for Vince to stop talking. To just _shut the fuck up_. “Cut the chummy crap, ya know I hate it.” Tora snapped. He hated when Vince…well, he just hated Vince in general but he especially hated when the man attempted to relate to him, pretend they had anything other than a fucked up master-slave relationship in common.

Vincent’s brows drew together ominously, “If you were anyone else you’d have a bullet between your eyes for speaking to me that way,” he warned. “One day I’m going to get sick of putting up with your fucking mouth and shut you up for good.”

Tora just turned and glared out the window as he pulled up next to the curb, down the street from the safe house. “Put on the fucking gloves,” Vincent snarled as he slapped Tora in the chest with a pair of black leather gloves, his own already on. Tugging the glove down his wrist Tora opened the door and stepped out of the car, Vincent on his heels.

Tora moved silently, quickly down the hallway, two cops, that had been it for protection. Pathetic. _Stupid_. Vince didn’t even need him. Vince had killed the one he’d taken out, because of course he had. Tora had just rolled his eyes when Vince had glared at him for only hitting his target in the temple with the butt of his gun. Being pistol whipped sucked but it was a hell of a better option than being dead. Nobody but the witness had to die tonight. What Vince had done was unnecessary. Lane was going to be livid. His gut rolled, he wondered if Lane knew the guy Vince had just killed. If he was a good man, if he was honest, had a family? Kids? “You take those two,” Vince instructed, holding out two fingers to the doors to his left. Tora dipped his chin in agreement before moving into the first room. Empty.

Second room, a man, sitting quietly, silently on the end of a bed, the fingers of his hands laced together in one big fist. His head hanging low on his shoulders. He turned his face to look at Tora, eying the large dark man up and down slowly before his gaze settled on the gun in his glove covered hand. “This is it eh? You’re here to kill me?” he whispered.

Tora met the man’s gaze head on. “Yeah… Sorry,” he replied quietly, wanting this done and over with. He scowled, fuck Vince for making him do this. The guy looked like an average Joe. Just in the wrong place at the wrong time, went to the police doing what he thought was right and where had that landed him? Here. Now. Staring down the barrel of a gun. Tora raised his arm, lining up his target. Better to get this over with quick. Painlessly.

He paused, his finger on the trigger as he glanced around the room. Something wasn’t right. The man was too ready, too calm. Too…okay with what was about to happen. He stared the man in the eyes for a long moment. There. Just now. For a half a second, the man with the goatee had shifted his gaze. To the right. Behind him. “You stupid motherfucking cunt. You thought you could take _me_ down?” Vince bellowed, shouldering Tora out of the way on his left before he drove his fist into the witness’ face.

Tora frowned as the pummelling continued, “Do you have any idea the bullshit you’ve put me through? Say your prayers motherfucker, by the time I’m done with you you’ll be wishing for the reaper.” Vincent threatened. Tora blocked out Vincent’s terrorization and the sickening thudding of his fists as his attention was drawn resolutely to the closet behind him on his right. He raised his fire arm and yanked open the door, there in the back corner of the closet was a woman, her arms and legs wrapped around a struggling child, her hand pressed firmly over the kid’s mouth trying to silence his struggles and cries, her eyes wide with terror. Tora felt the blood drain from his face as the kid bit his mother’s hand and it fell away from his mouth. _Don’t scream, don’t scream, don’t **fuckin’ scream**. _He prayed as he watched the kid take in a deep breath. If the kid stayed quiet he could shut the door. Do the guy on the bed a favour and keep his family safe. If Vince heard the kid, they were _all_ fucked. “STOP HURTING MY UNCLE GYU!” the boy screamed at the top of his lungs.

Vincent stilled, his fist still in midair as his head whipped around to look at Tora’s back. The man was staring down at whoever had just screamed in the closet. He glanced down at the man groaning beneath him. Satisfied he wasn’t a threat; he drew himself to his feet and straightened himself, pushing his hair back and out of his face. “Finish it Tora. Show them all what you get when you fuck with Balthuman, and make it slow.” He ordered.

Tora didn’t turn to look at Vince behind him, his eyes still firmly fixated on the angry face of the little boy struggling in what he assumed was his mother’s grasp. “No.” Tora objected, turning to face Vince, “Shoot him yourself,” he said, pointing at the limp groaning body on the bed, “but you’re not laying a finger on these ones.” He told Vince firmly.

Tora watched in resolution as Vince’s face twisted hideously, “I’ve had just about enough of your fuckin’ insubordination, watch your fuckin’ mouth when you speak to me. You don’t have the stomach for this? Fine, stand back and watch then you fuckin’ coward. Get in my way and I’ll shoot you too!” He spat, raising the gun in his hand to fire at Gyu, his eyes still firmly fixed on Tora.

Tora turned and sneered at him, his lip pulled back in a menacing growl, “Do whatever the fuck you want but I’m leaving and I’m taking these two with me. Over my dead body you’re gonna hurt _another_ fuckin’ _kid_.” He informed his boss as he turned and reached into the closet for the woman and the child. “Come on, I’m getting you two out of here.”

The pair leaned towards him when the man trying to help them grunted in pain, the evil man that had beat Gyu had hit him squarely in the back of the head with the butt of his gun. The injury caused Tora’s hand to spasm and he dropped his gun, it slid away from him, coming to a stop at the hidden couple’s feet. Tora turned on Vince viciously, knocking the older man to the ground as they scuffled. Sitting atop Vince, Tora grabbed Vince’s wrist with both fists and slammed it into the ground, forcing him to relinquish his hold on his gun. The move left Tora open to a left hook, which he took to the floating ribs, the sickening crack making him groan as Vince broke bone and rolled over onto him. Tora reached for Vince’s discarded gun only to draw his hand back a moment later as Vince’s fist came flying at his face. The man was sitting on his chest, making it even harder to breath, to fight. Suddenly Tora was six years old again, getting the shit beat out of him. It was all he could do to deflect the blows flying at him. “You stupid little shit, how dare you challenge me! I’m going to shoot every single mother fucking one of them and make you fuckin’ watch!” It was then the shot that would be Vincent’s undoing rang out.

Tora looked up at Vincent in shock; his eyes round with disbelief as the older man slumped forward, landing on his chest, his breathing laboured as blood seeped from his wound and into the threads of Tora’s t-shirt, plastering the material to his skin. Tora fought off the urge to vomit when he heard Vince take in a shaky breath. Sitting up, Tora maneuvered his adopted father into a seated position. Vince lay back against him, relying on Tora for support as he took in another rasping breath. He was dying and they both knew it. “Shoot them.” He ordered.

Tora shook his head, swallowing thickly as he locked eyes with the boy in the closet. The gun was still in his hand, his face was tear stained, his eyes wide with disbelief at what he’d just done. Tora read the terror, knew this would haunt the kid. He’d seen that look before, in his own eyes, in the mirror after his first murder. He’d only been a little older than the boy in the closet. Suddenly he was back in his living nightmare, the one he had most nights, Vince’s gun at his temple. He was on the precipice of another moment that would change his life. Hurtling towards something he didn’t want to do but knew he had to. _Him…or you?_ The words reverberated around him, bouncing off the walls of his mind.

The kid didn’t deserve this, didn’t deserve to live with that kind of guilt and blood on his hands. Didn’t deserve to go through every day the way he had, tortured and terrorized by what he’d done despite never really having a choice. Tora could prevent it though, could take it for him, could finally take the bullet instead of firing it. Could finally be the man he wished he was when he looked in the mirror. He gazed down at his glove covered hand in contemplation for a long moment before finally coming to a decision. Vince was already dead, he was just bleeding out slowly. What Tora was going to do was merciful, for all three of them. Keeping his eyes on the child, he wrapped one powerful arm over Vince, squeezing him tightly, holding him still as he slipped his other hand over his mouth, using his thumb and first finger to pinch the man’s nose closed. He didn’t break eye contact once with the boy as Vince bucked and struggled in his grasp. Finally, just before Vince went still the boy dropped the gun and turned to bury his face in his mother’s chest. “I’m the one that killed him kid. _Not you_. Remember that.” Tora muttered to the silent room as Gyu and the woman stared on at him in abject horror.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Et voila, fini. Enjoy! Let me know what you think!  
> Also, HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!!! :D (it's legit my favourite day of the whole dang year)
> 
> Songs:  
> Do You Wanna Do Nothing With Me by Lawrence (Tora)  
> Good News by Classified (Quincey)

**_The Fifth Visit_ **

“I took all three of them to the train station after that. Found a hoodie in my back seat and put it on over my shirt, trying to hide the blood. I gave them all the cash I had in my trunk and told them to get out of the country. I handed Gyu Quincey’s info and the number to the cell you found too. I promised him I’d never tell anyone it was the kid that shot Vince.” Tora sighed, “I think the kid was still traumatised, Gyu’s sister too. They didn’t say a word, just stared at me wide eyed the whole time.” Tora closed his eyes, trying to fight off the memory of the hollowness in the kid’s eyes. Hollow was better than guilty though.

“I drove around for a long time after that, trying to decide what to do, whether I should try to hide the body, or if I should go home and shower, if I should go to Quincey. I settled on the police, for all the reasons I already told ya back at the prison. Gyu, his sister and the kid needed time to gain a decent head start and I was done with the Mafia. I was done killing. Hurting people. I just didn’t have it in me anymore. Not after that. Not after looking at that kid and seeing myself reflected in his stare.” He opened his eyes, “I had pretty much given up on life. I didn’t give a shit what happened to me as long as those three got away. Then you came along and Quincey started stirring the pot and I wasn’t sure quite what to do. I couldn’t tell Quincey I’d killed Vince but hadn’t shot him, then he’d find out about the kid and although Quincey knows Vince used to physically torture me he doesn’t know about the killings. The nights Vince would force me from my bed, take me downstairs, put a gun in my hands and tell me to shoot the men he’d tied to chairs as they begged for the lives. That would break him I think, Vince was still his Dad and he struggles with knowing where he comes from, and I don’t know how to explain why I did what I did without telling him about that.” He dropped his forehead to her shoulder, grateful she’d agreed to let him hold her. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to look her in the eyes right now.

“Having Gyu take the fall for this saved my relationship with my brother. Having him lie to Quincey in my stead saves me from having to tell him what happened. It’s easier if Quince believes Gyu shot Vince. I don’t think of it as lying to Quince, I see it as protecting him, I can live with that. With what Gyu’s doing because he’s protecting someone too, he wants to protect his nephew. Guarantee his safety, no matter what happens to him or I, a vengeful Balthuman will never come after the kid now. Just like he was prepared to die for his family that night.” He tightened his hold on the still woman in his arms. “Gyu told me on the way to the station the kid is the real witness. He was the one on the fire escape the night Vince killed the drug dealer. Apparently the kid liked to sit out there and draw. He came in through the window and told them what had happened in shock. Gyu happened to be over for dinner and stuck his head out the window just in time to see Vince and a couple of the guys leaving the ally. When they reported it, Lane told them they’d both have to testify to what they saw.” He finally paused, falling silent, burying his face in her neck.

Poppy blanched, this was overwhelming. Tora hadn’t paused once, the whole sordid story coming quickly, zero hesitation on his part. Silent tears streamed down her cheeks as she processed what he’d told her. It was all just a little too much. “You’re a good man. You did what you thought was right.” She whispered softly, reaching down to lace her fingers with his.

“Was it though? The right thing to do?” he whispered brokenly, “I don’t even know anymore.”

Poppy twisted in his hold, releasing his fingers, she cupped his face and stared him in the eyes, “there was no ‘right’ in that situation. I understand though. Why you did what you did.” She inhaled slowly, “thank you for trusting me with the truth.” She told him, her voice quivering. “I won’t tell a soul.”

He nodded, his eyes brimming with emotion, “I knew you were the right one.” He whispered hopefully, reassuring himself he hadn’t just done the wrong thing by trusting her, doubt still clouding his mind.

She broke eye contact, cuddling into his chest. Too overcome by his emotions to hold his gaze any longer, “I’m not scared of you Tora, I see what you see,” she murmured softly, affectionately, reassuringly, “I see someone that puts others first.”

**_Six Months Later_ **

Quincey draped his arms over Cordelia’s shoulders from behind as she hunched over his desk, reviewing her notes on a case. “Come to bed,” he told her, planting a kiss on her cheek.

She sighed and stood, hugging the blonde man to her, “I will, just give me ten more minutes okay?” she countered, resuming her seat when he released her.

Quincey sighed and watched her back for a long moment, “thank you Cordelia, truly, if not for you I would have lost the only family I have left.” He told her sincerely, “I’m still not sure why he wouldn’t talk to me, I’m not sure I ever will know but I’m glad he’s back.”

Cordy turned in her seat to gaze at her boyfriend, she debated with herself for a moment before opening her mouth. “If there’s anything I’ve learned about Tora through this, it’s that the man is consistent. Instead of hypothesizing about his ‘why’, examine the ‘whats’ and the ‘hows’. What did he do Quincey? How did he do it? If those things are consistent, the why will come to you, it always does.” She advised. “What has he done his whole life? Your whole relationship?” She prompted.

Quincey frowned at her before leaning against the desk, his arms crossed, a pensive look on his face. “He left me out.” He stated sadly.

Cordy nodded, “how did he leave you out Quincey?” she led him, hoping her loveable partner would see what she was driving at.

Quincey sighed, “He wouldn’t take me with him when he’d do shady shit with Goliath. Once he even took my pants so I wouldn’t follow him, even after I threatened to tell my Dad about him cutting class. He’d never tell me what was going on with Dad, with the organization. Just like how when we were little he wouldn’t tell me what Dad did to him whenever he came back upstairs with new bruises after being dragged away in the middle of the night.” He explained; the recollection painful for him.

She nodded, “use that big beautiful creative brain of yours handsome. Why? Why did Tora leave you out? Why did he do it that way?” She prompted.

His eyes rounded in horrified realization, “to protect me, to spare my emotions, to keep me out of trouble…he was…looking out for me.” He muttered, tears welling.

Cordy smirked up at him from her chair, “even if you don’t know the exact reason, isn’t understanding the motive enough?” she asked lazily, returning to her notes.

Quincey nodded, feeling emotional, “You’re right I just wish he hadn’t been so mean about it.” He murmured, “but you know something sugarplum? I think that’s the only piece of good news anyone’s given me since Dad died. So thank you.”

She nodded, her mind on her work, “In my line of work, you have to focus on the small wins or you get bogged down by the defeats. Glad I could help cheer you up, it’s good to see you back to normal again. You were somethin’ else when Tora was locked up.” She glanced up at the tired set of his shoulders, “Go to bed Blondie, I’ll be there soon. Promise.” He nodded and left the room.

An hour later, Cordelia crawled into bed as quietly as she could, wrapping her arms around her sensitive boyfriend, relieved to see he was finally sleeping soundly for the first time in months.

~ ~ ~

Across town, Tora rapped lightly on the door of Poppy’s apartment. He fidgeted nervously; he hadn’t seen her since the trial. She’d sat through every single one of his and Gyu’s hearings, offering moral support. It had gone down the way Quincey had predicted. Gyu had been found not guilty by way of self defense and Cordy had gotten Tora off with time served.

He and Poppy had been texting on and off since then. She’d quit the Globe and Narin, informing him she couldn’t work for Gil, a man that thought so little of her and had lied to her face. She’d landed a job at the Narin Free Press only a month ago. Despite the texting and the awkward sexual tension between them every time they saw each other, nothing had come of their relationship. He hoped to change that. Tonight.

Poppy opened her door only to blink up at the large man in her doorway in surprise. “Tora? It’s late; what on earth are you doing here?” She asked, her brow arched in question.

Tora grinned down at the small woman clad in her pyjamas, “ya eaten yet? I brought Pad Thai,” he offered, holding the takeout boxes towards her.

She just stared at him, “uh, no I haven’t, thanks. That was thoughtful of you.” She told him, finally accepting the food. “Why are you here Tora?” she asked softly.

He shrugged, a hopeful look in his eyes, “I was kinda hoping you’d be interested in doin’ _nothing_ with me? Thought we could chill? Have dinner? Watch a little HBO?” He asked, gesturing at his laid back outfit.

Poppy smirked, staring unabashedly at his grey sweatpants. “Nothing huh?” She teased, remembering how vehemently she’d rejected him the last time he’d come on to her.

He nodded, “I mean I know ya prefer plants but I’m pretty good at veggin’.” He joked.

She giggled at his terrible jest and stepped back, ushering him inside. “Oh I don’t know Tora, I think you’re worth a little more effort than my plants,” she teased, closing the door behind him, twisting the lock into place. 

“Damn, and here I’ve been wasting so much time working on photosynthesizing for ya,” he teased, a wide grin on his face, both dimples on display. For all intents and purposes she’d just caged him in her small apartment. As far as he was concerned though, she could keep him locked up for as long as she wanted. He glanced around the small place. It was nice, warm, totally Bobby. By far the best cage he’d ever been in.


End file.
